Of Blood and Sacrifice
by Elrodienne
Summary: Mitchell is finally getting his life back in order after George's death. When a new woman moves into town with problems of her own, his life is turned upside down & is brought on challenges both new & familiar - but mostly unexpected.
1. A New Beginning

Of Blood &amp; Sacrifice

A New Beginning

Annie drew back the curtains a half an inch for the thousandth time that day, peering down the road twelve houses down.

"I wish we could tell her. Living in there would give me the spooks…and I'm already dead," she said with a frown tugging at her eyebrows. She was speaking to Mitchell, who was perched on the slightly tattered brown couch and scanning the day's headlines in the paper. "Oh God, Mitchell, we _have_ to tell her! I mean…what if she finds something in there or, or…_sees_ something she shouldn't?" she extended her arms in a stressed manner.

"We can't, and even if we did, you know exactly the reaction we'd get," he said, finally breaking his gaze to look up at Annie's distressed face. "Even if we could, even if an ordinary human _could_ understand…I still wouldn't want to tell them." Annie gave up and turned back to one of her many suitcases which were nearly full. Mitchell sat back into the couch, staring blankly at the wall, "Anyway, they've cleaned the place up, so nothing will be found and the media already spoke out to the public years ago. The chances are high that she knows about it." As much as he constantly reiterated the whole "humans won't understand" concept, deep inside he and every one of his kind were aware of how much suspicion was being placed on the supernatural. There have been too many cases in the past of vampiric teeth marks in hundreds of human necks, far too large to diagnose as a spider bite, far too large to out-question human – or rather, vampire – involvement.

The big news in town was that a young woman was moving into the flat twelve houses down from where Mitchell and Annie now resided. It was an uncomfortable and unbelievable occurrence as their best friends, George, Nina and their child, Eve, was killed in that very flat nine years ago. No one had so much as laid a foot in the place since the event, minus investigation teams and reporters. The reporters who had truly no idea what the real story was, and announced to the public that it was a homicide with an unknown motive. But Mitchell and Annie knew the real story, but it was a story to be left for another day….

Mitchell and Annie had tried and tried to convince authorities and anyone who would listen to destroy the house after they gathered evidence, but to no avail. Instead, it had been left vacant up until they decided to fix up the place last year. The deaths of their best friends, their only true friends and their child, had struck a chord that was left vibrating for a long time, but more especially for Mitchell. Just as he was beginning to move on with his life to try to feel normal again, Annie broke the news a few months ago that she'd be packing up and leaving for Australia with her new fiancé.

The truth was, Mitchell was losing everything that was once permanent in his life. When he was young and human, he lost his parents. One-hundred and fifty years ago, he lost his normal life. And ever since then he has lost control on and off. Now he would be losing Annie, and possibly his sanity. His struggle with staying clean was always a complication and a struggle, and it probably always would be. When George and Nina had Eve, Mitchell made an oath to stay clean if for no one else's sake but the baby's. However, after George's death, it had been a downhill spiral for two years. He relapsed continuously over those two years, though the one thing he did have in control was not staying local so as not to draw any more attention to him and Annie. After the two-year slump, Annie convinced him to go clean again. While he was mostly faithful to this promise, he had begun a small, short-lived stint with drugs, mainly heroin. He hadn't confessed this to Annie. Sometimes he would find a source of blood and mix the two together. He blushed to admit it, but it had _always_ been a struggle to stay clean of blood, especially after losing his best friend. Now after hearing the news of Annie's upcoming leave, he felt the urge now more than ever for a fix. However, he was becoming keen on the drug for a slightly different reason than the other users: whenever he felt the urge to feed, the drug calmed him to a euphoric state and typically he avoided having to feed. The other problem was that he almost enjoyed the feeling of forgetfulness and a worriless day when he did take it. But it had been nearly a year since he had last touched the stuff, and as long as it was out of his reach, he wouldn't worry about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

He knew if he told Annie this now, she would cancel her entire future just to stay with him and help him _just in case_ he relapsed in either way – blood or heroin. But he couldn't do that to her; she had finally found love – with a ghost, no less – and was making a life for herself. Perhaps this was her life's purpose, and how could he take that away from her so selfishly? She spent fifteen years of her life with him and he couldn't blame her for wanting to start a new life with new beginnings. It was hard living so close to the house where their best friends were killed and she assumed Mitchell was in a perfectly healthy state by now.

"You should meet her at least," Annie said with a chipper tone and a smile, seemingly appearing out of thin air as she so often did. Mitchell gave a small jump at her sudden reappearance and looked up at her almost bewildered.

"I should…what?" He asked, for confirmation that he heard correctly. It had been quite some time since he made new friends, and he wasn't too sure befriending the woman living where George had died was such a great idea.

"You know…be social again." Mitchell smirked and she laughed lightly, looking up at the ceiling as if there were any ideas up there.

"Right, because I've been such a socialite my whole life," he joked, letting out a laugh.

"Well, then it's time to make friends. Have fun. You can't possibly just sit around here ogling at the newspaper every day." She said, meeting Mitchell's doubtful and playfully irritated expression. "Well, maybe you technically can…but you shouldn't. It's not good for you, and it won't be good for me to be a few countries over worrying about how you're getting on." She felt defeated when he didn't respond right away, sighing. "Make a new _life_. It's what I'm doing…it's what George would have wanted." She said the last part in almost a whisper, feeling the threat of tears stinging her eyes. It seemed to have struck a chord with Mitchell, as he appeared in front of her suddenly. She hadn't noticed he even moved, but that was because her tears were now blinding her eyes as she felt Mitchell's arms wrap around her shoulders. She returned the hug, burying her face into his shoulder.

"It's going to be lonely without you here. Even if you are a ghost," he said as they both smiled, Annie trying to regain her composure. She pulled away a bit so she could see his face. She was beyond grateful that even after their brief romantic relationship that they could still remain best friends without any awkward nuisances dividing them. Mitchell was staring at her, trying to read her thoughts on her face. She didn't look convinced about something and he knew it was about him. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Listen to me. I'm going to be fine. Don't worry about me; I'm nearing a hundred and seventy-five years every single day. I'm positive I have enough life experience under my belt to take care of myself. I managed it before I met you or even George." As persuading as he made this sound, in his head he knew there was at least some lack of truth to this.

There was also a lot of truthlessness to it. Before Herrick had recruited him, he had lived on his own for a few years after his parents had passed away. After recruitment, he was on his own minus Herrick watching his every move, but he didn't fare so well being so blood-thirsty all the time. It was when he saw poor George lying defenselessly against his own kind that he decided to go clean. When they met Annie, his attempt was confirmed to be a great idea. Annie made him strive to be different. Unfortunately, there were several slip-ups, both with vampires and ordinary, innocent humans. He swore to Annie he would take these sins to his grave. For a long time, maybe even half a year, Annie wouldn't speak to him. It took a good year for her to communicate with him properly again. The massacre he was involved in took place just three months before George's death. He has since been forgiven, but his mistakes were not forgotten by either of them and he didn't expect any less. It put such a strain on their relationship that they mutually decided to stay friends, and it alleviated a lot of stress.

Annie shook her head, seeming to be convinced he was being honest. A part of her, a little spark, still felt some anxiety about him being left alone however. "Alright, enough blubbering from me! I need to get packing or me and Cedric will miss our flight." She let that sink in a moment. "Ha! Imagine that, two ghosts on an airplane. And we don't even need to buy seats!" She chuckled to herself as she headed upstairs to gather more of her clothes. Mitchell was grinning, then sighed as he pictures, for the first time, what his future in this house was going to look like in just three short hours. Even with all the collectibles and decorations, the room felt unnaturally empty.

-3 hours later-

Mitchell stopped halfway into his front door. He had just said his goodbyes to Annie and wished her and Cedric good wishes, but he didn't feel quite ready to step inside the barren house just yet. Annie's voice rang in his head about meeting new people; she made sure to drill this into his head until the very last second she was still present in this country. He closed his door and looked to his left, twelve houses down. The new neighbor girl's lights were on inside. He felt his stomach drop, imagining a full, happy life that should have been George, Nina, and Eve. He pictured having to go through this process of deciding whether he needed to keep his true self a secret, to keep another innocent human life, out of peril…or if he would spill the beans. But whenever he decided the latter, the other person wound up deceased because of him and his anxiety and fear of being ratted out. He clenched his jaw and eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as he forced his feet to move in the direction of the new neighbor. He was swamped in his own thoughts and before he realized it, he was at the stoop of 301 Boyd Street. Feeling his heart pounding, his hands dampening beneath his gloves, he took one step and knocked on the black door.


	2. Introductions & Revelations

Introductions &amp; Revelations

Mitchell stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was half tempted to forget this idea and dart back home before anyone noticed he was there. The problem was there was already a group of chatty neighbors behind him across the street, no doubt gossiping about the newcomer. They had been there before Mitchell even arrived. He thought it was odd, but he was sure it was due to the fact that this particular residence had been vacant for nine years until now. He felt a certain sickness in his insides, and when the door opened, he half expected to see George's face again.

Mitchell looked up, having been daydreaming whilst gazing at the concrete steps below him. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but two things occurred at once: The whiff of the scent the inside of the house brought on resurfaced several feelings at once. Rage, sadness, revenge. But besides that, the most beautiful creature stood before him. She had a pale complexion, vibrant green eyes, and her cheeks were dusted with light brown freckles. Her hair was a chestnut brown and wavy, ending just before her elbows. There was certain tiredness to her face though, and he assumed this was due to the stresses of the moving process.

"Can I help you?" She asked a bit hesitantly. She was clearly put off by his intense talent for eye contact, and his jaw was still hanging open.

Mitchell blinked and came back to reality. "Oh, sorry. I was just in the neighborhood and…well, actually I live down the street, but I'd heard someone was moving in here and I thought I'd come and…introduce myself." There was a long silence; he was put off by the increasing crowd across the street. This was one of the few times Mitchell had made a public appearance, minus some grocery shopping, but usually Annie did that.

The woman in front of him had an intrigued smile on her face and her eyebrows rose. It was only then Mitchell realized he had not actually introduced himself. "Ah, sorry, John Mitchell," he took a step forward and extended his hand. "But I usually just go by Mitchell."

She smiled, taking his hand into a gentle shake. "Evelyn O'Gorman and it's nice to meet you, Mitchell." Her smile widened a bit as they took their hands back. Her eyes caught sight of the ever-growing crowd behind Mitchell, and even though they were across the street, they weren't trying very hard to disguise their chatter as just a friendly round of catch-up. "Er, do you want to come in?" She asked, feeling uncomfortable with the situation outside.

Mitchell drew in a breath through his teeth; this was sort of what he was afraid of. But given the expression Evelyn's face, he agreed. "Sure, good idea."

Evelyn closed the door behind them once they were inside, peering through the small door window. They were still there, but at least they couldn't see her or Mitchell. She turned to him as he was looking about the place. "Sorry, I think I overpacked so there's not much room to walk." Her cheeks flushed just slightly. There was an abundance of boxes on the floor, some of them still unopened and others with clothes and other objects hanging out of them.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've done this enough times to know what it's like," Mitchell gave an encouraging smile, though to be honest he didn't have nearly a quarter of material items whenever he moved. He basically just had his clothes and George was the one with the most possessions.

Evelyn returned his smile and shoved some of the boxes in a corner with her foot, leaving enough room to get to the couch. "So, are they always like that?" She asked, prodding her thumb toward the door."

Mitchell leaned against one of the stark white walls and nodded, scrunching his face a bit. "Unfortunately, yeah. Although I don't know why in particular today…," he fibbed. He could tell she wasn't from around her, so chances were nil that she ever saw the story on the news about the so-called 'homicide'. He didn't want to spook her on her first night here, and even so, the homicide story was completely false.

"Probably since there was the electrical fire. I bet they're dying to know what it looks like in here now," she said with complete innocence in her tone, and Mitchell's suspicions were proven correct. So the landlord told her it was an electrical fire…how clever.

Mitchell kept a straight face. "Oh yeah, yeah. It looks good though. It just needs a bit of paint. But it still looks like it used to," he said convincingly. Something he said caught her attention as she began boiling a pot of water.

Evelyn looked over at him from the kitchen. "You've been in here before?"

Mitchell swallowed a small lump in his throat, "a friend of mine used to live here. With his wife and his daughter."

Evelyn suddenly realized, by the look on his face which had fallen, what that meant. "Oh, I'm sorry. Wow…may I ask what happened, or what is it related to the…" she trailed off, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy for even prodding into such a personal conversation.

He nodded, still staring at the newly-installed wood flooring, "It is. I mean, yes. They died in the fire." For a moment he pictured the night he came home from work and the street being blocked off. There were flames pluming from the house and half of it had been demolished already. You couldn't tell by what it looked like today, but that was a night he would never forget. He had expected to see George, Nina, and Eve standing within the large crowd overseeing the damage. But he had overheard a paramedic choking from smoke inhalation and telling his commander that they only found burnt remains of three bodies, and it looked as if they'd been victims of an attack before the fire got to them.

Mitchell didn't realize he had completely zoned out, jaw clenched in anger, until Evelyn had stopped in front of him with a fresh cup of tea. Smiling, he took it graciously. "Thank you," he gingerly sipped the piping hot drink and then remembered what he had wanted to ask her. "Where did you live before here?"

She took a seat on the couch. "Ireland. Well, Adare to be more precise. What about you?" She cupped her tea in her hands, waiting for it to cool.

Mitchell had to think about what his answer would be. To be honest, he never had one particular residence. He moved around so much in his long life, and most of the time it was because of his horrific past that he kept trying to escape. That's why he was here now, in Kent. So far he had been mostly successful, at least in terms of not involving himself with vampire clans. "Well, I've moved quite a lot, but I was born in Belfast. I actually was living with my friend George, the one who lived here last, and our friend Annie. Now I'm all by my lonesome," he said the last part with a mocking to.

"I see," she said. "My parents used to visit there all the time when I was little. But I was too young to remember it."

Mitchell took a seat next to her on the opposite end of the couch. In the back of his mind, he could smell her blood. Strangely, it smelled weak. Either his sobriety was working, or she just had an underwhelming scent.

"Have you ever visited the Skellig Islands?" He asked inquisitively, downing the rest of his tea. Tea made him miss Annie's company, and he forgot he'd be returning to an empty house soon. When Evelyn shook her head 'no', he gave her a bewildered expression and shook his head in mock disappointment. "That…is blasphemy. It's probably the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen in my entire life."

Evelyn chuckled at his reaction. "I never really got out much, at least not until now. I've had a mostly traditional life with school and everything."

"Oh, yeah? Is that why you've moved here?" Mitchell inquired, getting up to wash his tea mug.

"Mostly, yes." She responded, and Mitchell could sense there was a history to her answer, but he didn't want to push her.

"What are you in school for?" He continued, taking back his seat on the couch.

"I'm actually starting a theatre and dance program in a couple weeks. What about you? I mean, are you in school or anything?" She inquired, looking over at him. She wasn't even sure how old he was; she wouldn't guess anything over 30, if that. She hadn't really gotten a genuine look at him since she'd met him, but he truly was very handsome. He had unique features and had an interesting, almost rock-and-roll fashion sense.

Mitchell looked down at his hands in his lap. "Not school, no. Not really my thing. But I'm actually going to get a job at the hospital. I used to work at one a while back but Annie and I ended up moving here." He actually hadn't really considered getting a job yet, but somehow Evelyn's achievements made him feel a bit disappointed in himself. Really, he was a bit envious. There wasn't much a vampire could do, no real job he could truly have. It was too risky.

Evelyn watched him speak almost as if he were full of shame, or distracted by a thought. "Is Annie your girlfriend?" She asked with no tone of scrutiny, just genuine curiosity.

Mitchell was taken aback for a moment; he hadn't expected a question like that. "Oh no, just a very good friend of mine. Well, we did have a sort of thing for a short while but we were a lot better as best friends. But she's actually on her way to Australia right now with her fiancé. You would probably love her, everyone does." He gave a sideways smile which Evelyn returned.

"I would love to meet her. Although it might be a little hard given the distance…" She said, and they laughed. Mitchell looked out the window. It was already dark out and he was feeling like he was overstaying his welcome. After all, he had only planned to introduce himself via Annie's suggestion.

"I should probably get going and let you finish your business." He nodded toward all of her boxes. "But if you end up needing any help or need ay recommendations for coffee, I know a _great_ place." He said with a friendly smile.

"I might have to take you up on that, I've a feeling I'll be unpacking until school starts. And I still need to paint, I feel like I'm living in an interrogation room." She joked as she walked to him to the door.

"Cool, well it's not hard to find me. I'm in the obnoxious blue house just down the street here." As he stepped outside he pointed down to his house, realizing it was dark. "Well, you'll see it tomorrow. I'll see you." He flashed a grin and headed back home.

"See you!" She called, shutting the door behind her. When she turned around and saw all that she had left to do, she sighed. This was going to take ages.

A week had passed, and more had happened than Mitchell had expected. The day after he met Evelyn, he got a job as a hospital cleaner. Thankfully he had plenty of references from his last location, so it was nearly an immediate hire. It wasn't a noble or prestigious job by any means, but he preferred having a job in solitude. Plus, it was a comfort position – he and George used to work in the same place, just different positions. They would often pass each other by and make offensive comments to each other en route to their destinations. His was usually the toilets.

Every day since then, he and Evelyn spent more time together. She had visited his house the day after they met, bribing him with coffee if he showed her where this café he always mentioned was.

One of the days he had helped her unpack, he was gifted with the clothing box. She had been in the next room fiddling with something else when he picked up a bra. He nearly had a panic attack as he threw it with all his force back in the box, taking other shirts out and piling them over it as if it were a tarantula. His eyes and mouth were gaping open and he turned only his eyes toward the room where Evelyn was, but she hadn't been looking. It wasn't like he had never seen such an article of clothing before, but it made him feel immensely awkward. He had only just met her yet it felt like he had already taken her clothes off, and he had already had an incident years ago of being labeled a pedophile. He knew Evelyn was nearer his age, but he still didn't want her to think he was a major pervert.

Every day they learned a bit more about each other, and every so often she would suddenly appear exhausted. He could see it in her face and hear it when she spoke. He figured it was the new change, new climate that was causing this, but he didn't want to pry unless she mentioned it.

He told her all about George and Annie and their times together. How Annie would make three times the amount of tea they needed just because she loved making it. How George understood him when he was only thinking something. How both Annie and George were his closest friends in all his life, and eventually Nina joined them. She was perfect for George. She didn't judge when he had accidentally scratched her and changed her entire lifestyle; she just happily went with it so long as she got to do it alongside George. Of course they all had their spats now and again; no relationship was perfect and it wouldn't grow without them. Of course he hid his best-kept secret from her that would be saved for another time a long way from now. He couldn't tell her he served in war because if she told her which one, then he'd _have_ to explain himself. He could lie and make up a different time, but there was enough information he was withholding. Because of what he hid from her, there was a lot about him he could not share. Although he probably wouldn't want to share much of it anyway, a lot of it was unpleasant.

In return, she explained the other reason she had moved besides school. Her parents had been the victims of a drunk driving accident when she was seventeen. Her father had been killed on impact and her mother survived, but she was left with severe disabilities. Evelyn finished her final year of high school while taking care of her disabled mother every day, with the help of a caregiver a couple days a week. She had no siblings or other extended family, so she was all her mother had. She put off her college ambitions to care for her mother until her mother passed away a year ago. She had been left with a generous amount of money – nothing to make her rich by any means, but enough to get her by at home, enroll in college, and move to Kent. She was 25 now.

Mitchell was at the hospital; it was his fourth day on the job. Although this was a separate hospital from the last one he worked in, nearly everything was the same: the scrubs, the duties, the people, the stale atmosphere of the hospital which often reeked of several blood types. He would be seeing Evelyn again later, and believe him when he had gotten a phone call from Annie just a couple days ago to check in already. One of the first things she asked was if anything had changed while she'd been gone; it'd only been three days since. But believe or not, things had changed. Maybe not significantly, but it was a substantial improvement to what his life was a month ago, even two weeks ago. Annie was a blessing to have around…he was sure she was the only thing keeping him sane.

Mitchell was mopping the hallway when the double doors just down the hall swung open violently. There were four nurses scurrying down the hall toward him with a body on the stretcher. They were speaking frantically to each other, checking notes, papers, the patient's face. He quickly leapt out of the way and when they ran past him, he got a quick glimpse of the body on the stretcher.

Such a familiar face…the petite face, those lips…those freckles…

His brow furrowed as he craned his neck down the hall as they rolled the patient through a room. That patient looked so familiar, yet…she looked so ill with her closed eyes and peaked skin tone. The one thing that threw him off was the cap on her head, he just couldn't be sure….

He continued to mop, though this time his mind was elsewhere. He squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose.

Frustrated, he waited a bit for the nurses to get situated. After about twenty minutes of stalling in the hall, in which he was surprised nobody yelled at him to get a move on, he made stride down the hall. When no nurses were around, he leaned close to the wall where a name plate stuck: _O'Gorman, Evelyn._

His heart sank. It couldn't have been. He peered through the glass window and saw a doctor fidgeting about with some nurses and the patient, but one of the nurses caught sight of him staring and shooed him away from the other side. He didn't budge, which prompted the nurse to meet him in the hall.

"May I help you, sir? Don't you have a job to do?" She looked him up and down and nodded at his mop. He completely ignored her retort.

"Is she alright?" He asked, still frowning with worry.

"May I ask what your relationship to the patient is?" She asked, clearly unenthused and impatient with him. Her hand was on her hip now.

"Just…a friend. You wouldn't by any chance know if this…Evelyn, has been admitted in here before?" He wouldn't take his eyes off the window, but the nurses and doctor were blocking any view he had of the patients face. He still wasn't convinced it was _the_ Evelyn he knew. But it was more his wanting to be naïve that was the problem.

"I am not authorized to hand out any private patient information." She saw the distraught concern on his face when he finally broke his gaze to stare at her. For a moment, she swore they flickered a pure, demonic black color. She blinked, and they were normal. She looked up and down the hall for any listening ears before she leaned in, "Between you and me…we were faxed her medical documents from home. She has been recently diagnosed with bone cancer. That's all we know for now. But the poor girl has no known family to contact so I guess she's on her own for now." Looking down the hall, she noticed one of the managers headed their way. She looked up at Mitchell and backed up a bit. "If I were you I'd get back to work before he reports you." She nodded to the figure approaching Mitchell.

Mitchell nodded and muttered a quick 'thank you' before turning around to continue working. He smiled brightly at his manager. "I took a late lunch break. I'll be going now." He made his way down the hall and stepped into the cleaning room, closing the door behind him. He was digesting this information. If Evelyn had cancer, why wouldn't she have told him? And what had happened that she ended up in here? He still had another three hours to his shift, but he wasn't sure he could wait that long to find out what happened.

He stuffed the mop into the water bucket and stuck his out into the hallway. There was no sign of anyone that mattered to catch him as he slipped out through the exit doors.

He fumbled with his keys when he arrived at his doorstep. He walked in, ran upstairs, changed into his everyday clothes, and headed down the road toward Evelyn's house. He was ninety-nine percent positive it was her in that hospital bed, but that one percent was nagging at him. When we didn't get an open door after waiting a few minutes, he made his way back to the hospital.

All he had to hope was that his manager didn't see him and lose his job. He wasn't exactly being all incognito. He wasn't even sure what he expected to get out of this. He wasn't family, so he likely wouldn't be able to be present in the room anytime soon. He found his way back into the same hallway and took a seat outside the room Evelyn was staying in. The door was still shut and there were still several nurses in the room moving about. He noticed the vacant chairs on either of his sides, and then it hit him: Evelyn had nobody in her life to sit in these chairs. Nobody to care for her, to call, to visit, to worry…except for himself.

And that's what he would do. All he had to do now was wait.


	3. A Bond

_**Hello, all! Popping in to thank any and all who have read/followed my story thus far. I have many eventful plots planned ahead and hope you enjoy them as much as I have/will creating them. It only gets better from here. If anyone has any critique, suggestions on what they'd like to see (fuel my imagination!), or anything of those sorts, feel free to let me know.**_

Ch. 3: A Bond

"Sir," came a muffled voice. Mitchell was in a deep slumber, his head lolled to the side against the wall.

"Sir?" rang the voice again, this time a bit louder.

"_Sir!"_ Mitchell swatted at the hand that was shaking his shoulder fairly violently. He squinted his eyes at the blinding hospital lights in his eyes. He groaned as he began to lift his head back to normal, feeling the terrible soreness he was about to succumb to for sleeping in such a way.

His eyes crinkled as they adjusted to the light, he looked up at the nurse who was responsible for his startle.

"Sorry to wake you, sir, but unless you're family, all visitors were supposed to have left four hours ago." She said. She was friendly, plump with short brown hair, but spoke with warning as if she were afraid security would be called on Mitchell.

His eyes widened some at this news. What time _was _it? The last thing he remembered was watching nurses and doctors walk to and from Evelyn's room. "I'm, uh…I'm her cousin." He lied, shifting himself up straight in his seat. His bum was numb. He stared the nurse dead in the eyes as if he challenged her to counter his statement.

There was silence…she was definitely trying to decide if he was a liar or not. He was too groggy to argue.

"Well…_cousin_…" she sneered, but he could tell she was being a smart alec. He assumed midnight shifts would do that to you. "You can stay, but I'll have to ask you to move to the lobby. It's just down there here on the left. The dining hall is open until two."

She unclipped a pen from her breast pocket and took a clipboard out from under her arm, and Mitchell just nodded in response. He noticed she was now perched at a small station just outside of Evelyn's room. The lights were off in the room.

Mitchell stood, stretching his arms above his head as he did so and feeling the blood rush back to all his extremities. He had only just now noticed how calm everything was now; it was a contrast compared to the havoc he had witnessed when he was awake.

He started in the direction of the lobby, but turned on his heel back toward the nurse who had woken him. "Um, ma'am…"

"Yes?" She didn't break her gaze from whatever she was writing.

Mitchell pocketed his hands and walked a little closer so that only she was in earshot. "Did they say what happened? That is, why Evelyn wound up in here? Only by the time I got here they were too busy working on her and I didn't want to get in the way." He flashed a brilliant smile just for a moment, hoping it would encourage her to give him some sort of information.

She glanced at him before clicking her pen closed and sliding it back into her pocket. She leaned against the small counter and sighed. "Well, according to her after she woke up, she said she was walking outside when she felt feint. She doesn't remember falling, but luckily some neighbors were outside to find her in time and called an ambulance. It turns out her blood levels dropped, but she got a transfusion and after some rest she should be okay. We want to keep her for another day or two to be sure, though."

Mitchell swallowed, trying to take all this information he had gathered in the last 8 hours into consideration. He wasn't entirely educated in the health field, at least not anything like this.

The only thing he knew like the back of his hand were the before and after side effects of blood thirst.

"But she's going to be fine?" His voice cracked a bit. He blamed this on just having woken up.

The nurse, who Mitchell noticed was named Deborah on her badge, nodded reassuringly. "She suffered a pretty nasty cut on her face, but many cancer patients wound easily. As long as her blood count is stable again, which we expect it will be, she'll be able to go home in no time." Deborah cleared her throat and looked at her watch, "alright hon, I have another patient to check in on, but have yourself a seat in the lobby. If you're staying the night we'll let you know if anything changes. Oh…and we'll let Evelyn know her cousin is here." Deborah waddled in the other direction.

"Cous-?" He instantly caught himself – _real smooth_, he thought. _Nearly gave yourself away not five minutes after you lie. _Thankfully, she didn't notice.

Mitchell took one last peek through Evelyn's window, but it was too dark to see anything. He looked up at the clock; it was nearly 1 'o clock. He had a day off tomorrow as it was the weekend.

Making his way down the elevator with an elderly couple in awkward, elevator silence fashion, he couldn't figure out why this particular couple was staring at him with fear. His brows furrowed slightly, running through his head. He hadn't just killed anyone, so there was that…

Then he saw it: the ceiling of the elevator was reflective glass, and his appearance was absent beside the elderly couple. He tried to make this observation inconspicuous, but when they'd noticed that _he_ noticed, he saw the woman shuffle closer to her husband. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for this uncomfortable situation to end before they questioned him.

Finally, he felt the familiar drop in his stomach when the elevator came to a halt, and he was nearly walking through the doors like a ghost before they even opened. He power-walked his way to the dining hall, following the signs hanging from the walls.

When he turned the corner, he saw the elders poking their heads out of the elevator doors until he disappeared around the corner. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding until he reached the cafeteria.

He ordered a decaf coffee and sat at one of the wooden square tables; the room was vacant minus the workers.

Finally, he had time to digest everything. He had only know Evelyn for a week, but he still couldn't imagine she hadn't told him about her condition.

Then again, it's not as if he'd been completely honest about his identity either.

He cupped his hot coffee between his hands. He wished he had more knowledge about this sort of thing…about all sorts of things, really. Not only was he relatively clueless about anything cancer-related, but his ability to cater to a cancer patients' emotional needs were lackluster as well.

What if Evelyn never wanted him to know about her situation, just as he didn't -no, _couldn't_ \- tell her about his? Hers was at least normal amongst the human race that he _did _know.

What if she didn't want his company? They had just met, yet he felt some sort of obligation, for lack of a better term, to help her. She had nobody to turn to and she began uni in a week. Surely she would need some sort of support, right? He knew he did in his worst of times, though he was lucky enough to have two people.

Except those two people were in an almost exact situation as he, minus the whole vampire thing.

Before he knew it, he had finished his coffee and it was nearly 2 o' clock. The hall workers were cleaning up, so he took that as his cue to leave.

When he was back up in the lobby on Evelyn's floor - and after double and triple checking for any sign of that elderly couple, and taking the stairs to be safe – he figured he should try to get some sleep.

He pushed together a few chairs and although he was a bit too tall for them, he made himself as comfortable as possible on his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Before he could count to ten, he was asleep.

**  
Mitchell was surrounded by familiar hospital walls with flyers and posters he had all but memorized by now. He slopped his wet mop onto the floor, his usual routine, before he heard fast pitter-patter running toward him. When he looked up, it was George, out of breath and adjusting his spectacles. He came to a dead halt in front of Mitchell, resting his hand on Mitchell's shoulder with his head bowed while he caught his breath.

Mitchell was speechless. "George?" He asked his voice barely full volume.

George composed himself. "Okay, so…I have to tell you something…you're not going to believe…maybe even not _want_ to believe…" he was rambling in his old George fashion, but Mitchell was all sorts of confused.

"Tell me what?" He inquired.

George punched Mitchell in the shoulder, though it didn't quite hurt as much as it was startling.

"_Hey!"_ Came a voice, though it wasn't George's. Mitchell looked around him, then back at George. George's lips had definitely moved, but it wasn't his voice. It was too…girly.

George started again, "I have to tell you this-"

But as George spoke, Mitchell watched as George's fist met Mitchell's shoulder again.

"Tell me what," he asked, "that you're a woman in disguise?"

"_What are you talking about_?" Spoke the unknown voice again.

**

Mitchell parted open his eyes halfway to find himself in a completely different environment – he was beneath a set of wooden chairs, and there was a pair of feet to his right at eye-level.

He shot up quickly and before he could think, he smashed his forehead against the bottom of the chair.

"_Shit_…Jesus." His eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Oh no, are you alright?" came the same voice from earlier, and then he realized: the whole George sequence had been a dream. He slowly rolled out from beneath the chairs, rubbing his throbbing head before looking up at Evelyn's bright face.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. When he finally got to his feet and his eyes adjusted to the bustling sunlight crashing through the windows, he realized many things at once: he was still in the lobby from last night, he had wound up sleeping under the chairs, and there were several pairs of eyes staring at him, including Evelyn's.

She wore a playful smile, but with a hint of distress as she watched a lump grow in size on Mitchell's head. She was dressed head-to-toe in a purple-hued pastel hospital gown and her hair was slightly messy. She was also walking with assistance from a walker

"How is your head?" She asked; he swore there was a small tone of teasing, but he couldn't be sure. In fact, he was bewildered that she was asking how _he_ was doing.

He swatted the air with his hand, scrunching his face. "Don't worry about me, how are you feeling?" He wasn't sure if Evelyn needing assistance with a walker was concerning or just precautionary.

Many people would probably question how he knew so little, but it was due to his unique 'lifestyle' and although he worked at hospitals, he was just the cleaning guy.

Evelyn shrugged, scanning their audience and speaking low so that only Mitchell could hear her. "I'm a lot better, thank you. I actually came down to see if you wanted to have breakfast in my room."

She certainly sounded chipper even after her incident, and only now had he noticed the stitched gash in her cheek. It was about five inches long. He felt a light swerve in his stomach; it was a mix of the sight of an open wound and blood rushing beneath the flesh, but also the thought of her helpless on the pavement.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that. You'll just tire yourself out." He said, but truthfully his stomach was aching with hunger.

Evelyn shook her head. "The doctor wanted me to get my blood circulating again since I'd been lying in bed for so long. That's why I need this, in case I got lightheaded again." She nodded at the walker beneath her. "Come on, I insist. Hospital food is a 2-star delicacy at best, but it's better than an empty stomach." She led the way out back into the hall and Mitchell laughed at her retort.

He side-eyed her as she walked; she was a bit slower than usual.

Once they were further down the hall away from the lobby audience, she looked up at Mitchell. "Deborah told me about my cousin who came to check on me last night." Her tone was laced with speculation and a smirk played on her lips.

Mitchell scratched the back of his with an open-mouthed smile. "Aah, yeah. They said I would have had to take off unless I was family." He watched as her smile grew into a toothy grin.

Evelyn looked down at her feet, and Mitchell could see her cheeks were turning a pale shade of rosy pink.

"It was very sweet of you to come, let alone stay," She kept her eyes on the floor, her cheeks a slightly deeper rouge. "Thank you." She finally met his eyes, and he smiled so hard that his eyes crinkled.

Before Mitchell could speak, they came to a halt just outside her room door. Mitchell gestured with his hand for her to go first.

Deborah, the nurse from last night, was writing something on the dry-erase board on the wall before she turned to see the pair walking in. She gave Mitchell a knowing look, though Mitchell wasn't sure what exactly it meant, so he just propped himself against the wall near the window while Evelyn slid into her bed.

"Food will be up in just a minute, dear. Do you want me to ring for a little extra for your _friend_?" Deborah had a crooked smile planted on her face and Evelyn giggled, leading Mitchell to think he was somehow involved in this inside joke. For a second he thought he might be in trouble and when Evelyn caught sight of his expression, she started full on laughing.

"Yes, please," was all Evelyn could choke out before catching her breath. Deborah winked at Mitchell before leaving the room.

Mitchell's jaw dropped as he slowly looked over at Evelyn who was dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. "You completely blew my cover! _And_ you're proud of yourself!" He guffawed in a mockingly appalled tone.

"You should have seen your face, it was priceless. It was like you'd seen a ghost." She leaned over the side of her and slid a chair over closer to where the end table was. She pointed at it.

"Sit, please."

"Yes ma'am." He plopped himself down and now that he was less distracted, his fingers found the lump ever growing on his forehead. He made an involuntary hissing sound which caught Evelyn's attention.

"That doesn't look too good; it's the size of a grape." She looked around the room until her eyes landed on a cup of ice. "I have an idea."

She fumbled through the end table's drawers until she found a small plastic baggy, dumping the ice in it before handing it to Mitchell.

"Put that on it, at least until you get home."

Mitchell gratefully put the bag to his head, looking up at her. "You're an angel."

Again, her cheeks flushed, but not much before a young man rolled in a tray with two large containers. One he handed to Mitchell, and the other he set on an adjustable tray connected to Evelyn's bed.

They both thanked him and when he left, they stared down at their respective Styrofoam boxes.

"Are you ready for this?" Evelyn broke the silence, her eyes not leaving the Styrofoam box.

"I'm not too sure…two-star delicacy, huh?" His mouth formed a sideways smirk, his eyebrows raised in concern.

Almost like clockwork, a doctor walked in just as their finished their meals (the luxury of paper-thin pancakes and barely-warm sausages, with a side of lukewarm orange juice).

The doctor flashed them both a kind smile. He was a relatively thin man with wispy brown hair and thicker black spectacles. When he noticed Mitchell as a new guest, he leaned forward and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm doctor McNally."

Mitchell stood to his feet and shook his hand, "I'm John Mitchell, nice to meet you as well."

When Mitchell sat back down, the doctor was visibly hesitating. He looked between Evelyn and Mitchell. Mitchell briefly glanced at Evelyn, who didn't take her eyes off the doctor.

"I just want to say," Dr. McNally began whilst looking at Evelyn, "that I have your results back from your x-rays, the ones you had taken while you were in Adare. Your doctors there sent the files. Before I begin, it is custom to ask Ms. O'Gorman if she wishes her guest to be present while we discuss her results."

As much as Mitchell wanted to stay, he knew he wasn't entirely 'authorized' to considering he had only recently met Evelyn.

"I can go, it's not a bother-" He began, but Evelyn shook her head and she looked almost frantic when she saw him get up.

"No, please stay! I mean if you wouldn't mind." She sat back into her pillow and looked up at the doctor as Mitchell slowly sat back down. "He's my friend, Dr. McNally. He slept on wooden chairs just to be able to be sure I was in good health despite the circumstances. It's more than anyone I knew for my whole life would have done for me."

Mitchell hadn't quite expected the conversation to go this way, and although he was rather flattered, he didn't feel he deserved such praise. He just wanted to help and to get on with his life and meeting her happened at just the right moment.

As Dr. McNally agreed to this and was organizing his papers, Evelyn caught Mitchell's eye and gave a smile worth a thousand words, but they wouldn't need to be said as he understood it as 'I mean it'. This time he was the one feeling his cheeks tingle, and that was a rarity for him.

Dr. McNally cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. "I'm afraid it is not entirely…wonderful news."

Simultaneously, their stomachs dropped.

He continued on. "A mass was located on your spine. Because this is a new diagnosis for you, further testing had to be considered before an official diagnosis was delivered."

Mitchell was as still as stone, but his eyes were darting back and forth between Evelyn and the doctor. He watched as Evelyn's brows formed a heartbreaking expression of sorrow, and tears began streaming from her eyes with every bit of news. He could tell the doctor was trying to allow her to take it one piece at a time, but that it was urgent she knew. Mitchell didn't know much about the specifics of cancer, but he did know early detection was absolutely imperative when it came to treatments and mortality.

Dr. McNally continued on, his voice a bit softer still as he leafed through each document in his arms. "The official diagnosis is that of Ewing sarcoma. I was notified that you'd been aware it was a form of bone cancer at your first exam in Ireland. When you were admitted yesterday afternoon and after measuring how low your blood cell count was paired with blood loss from your fall, we contacted your previous doctor and they had just received your results."

By now, Evelyn was hiding half of her face behind her upright knees, her arms wrapped around her small legs. Her eyes were pinched half shut, a steady flow of wetness covering her speckled cheeks.

Mitchell felt his heart aching for her. He wished there was _something_ he could do, but he knew nothing he could say or do could take back the doctor's words or Evelyn's unfortunate circumstances.

But she needed someone, and he had already volunteered himself mentally that he would watch over her…if not now more than ever. He made his way to the edge of her bed and gently took her hand in his, squeezing it gingerly. As much as this pained him to hear, he denied himself to express any negative emotion for the sake of keeping Evelyn optimistic.

Though in reality, he hadn't a clue where this disease could take her. He just knew it was serious and something needed to be done about it.

Seeing that she could barely breathe properly let alone speak, and with the doctor patiently allowing her time to digest this, he spoke up. "What can we do to be rid of it?"

Dr. McNally cleared his throat once more, this time positioning himself beside Evelyn as her small frame trembled. "There is hope, Evelyn. This is not anywhere near the end of your journey. We'd like to perform more tests and also perform a biopsy on the mass. This way, we can determine at what stage the cancer is at and we will take a CT scan to see if it has spread at all."

Certain words of the doctor's speech made Evelyn flinch more than others. She simply nodded her head. Mitchell was staring blankly at the bed.

"We'd like to do both of these things this evening while you are here. We should have the results by morning time tomorrow, and we would like to keep you here overnight tonight so we can supervise your blood levels. But if you remain stable by tomorrow, there would be no need to keep you here a day longer."

Dr. McNally smiled and arranged his papers in a neat order before he headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder before exiting. "We will arrange a time for your testing tonight and notify you when we have a time slot."

"Thank you, doctor." Mitchell muttered, still in utter disbelief. Evelyn had barely just found out she had cancer not long before Mitchell did, so it was equally traumatizing in that sense.

He finally took a good look at her and nothing but pure agony covered her face. Afternoon sun was peeking in through the window drapes. He went over and raised them, allowing the light to pour into the room.

Mitchell walked over and this time, he crawled into her bed beside her and gently pressed her head to his chest. Nothing he could say could reverse any damage done. He draped an arm around her petite shoulders. She allowed herself to drown in his shirt, failing to unscramble Dr. McNally's words. She wasn't shaking any longer, nor crying. She didn't even have the energy to think properly at this point.

But for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.


	4. The Old & The New

Ch. 4 – The Old &amp; The New

It was Tuesday in the late evening, three days after Evelyn's diagnosis.

Evelyn's results confirmed that she had cancer – the doctors were certain it was anyhow, but with the biopsy of the mass on her spine, it was official. It was determined that her cancer was at stage three, but that it hadn't spread to other parts of her body so far. Starting Friday, she would begin her first round of chemotherapy treatment.

The doctors hypothesized that after three months of this, they would be ready to perform surgery to remove the tumor. As strongly as Evelyn was taking this, Mitchell was sure that the way she was thinking emotionally was a stark contrast.

Mitchell was spread out on his couch, newspaper in hand. He was staring at the inked letters on the page but nothing was registering in his head. All he could think about was how his blood thirst was strengthening by the day. It worsened each moment he spent with Evelyn.

The past weekend when she had fallen asleep next to him, the scent of her blood was stronger than he'd remembered. When he first met her, it was barely present. He realized this was likely due to her sickness. But now that she was getting blood transfusions, it was enticing his internal monster to come out and play again.

Every day was a struggle, but now he was being challenged.

He couldn't risk this with her…he wouldn't. This was the first time in a decent while that he felt an actual _desire_ and a _need_ for blood.

The last time he felt this way, he had found a new source of 'comfort' in drug use. It was exceptionally rare for creatures of his kind, or any other supernatural being, to indulge in what was typically considered a normal human's behavior. Blood was the vampire's dependence, but Mitchell found control in using heroin because it grounded him; made him placid versus the crazed monstrous demon he became when he was blood thirsty.

The problem was, just when he had cut himself off cold-turkey from the substance, he had been feeling sparks of withdrawal. This was quite a long time ago now, but not altogether omitted as an option.

Mitchell sighed deeply. He could still just barely smell her blood as if a thin layer had stuck to his nostrils. He subconsciously rubbed his nose with his finger as if it would erase any signs of the smell.

This was going to be much more of a problem than he anticipated.

Evelyn was homebound again, but since she had been, he had somewhat cut off communication with her. Maybe not entirely, but he felt like he was becoming more of a danger and a threat than a helping hand.

He slammed the newspaper down on the couch and brought his legs down, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands knotted in his hair. He was flustered.

He could call Annie, but she would likely book the next flight home if he told her about his subconscious intentions.

This house was much lonelier than he had expected it to be, especially in troubling times like this. There was no one else to talk to about this special situation.

Groaning, he grabbed his jacket from the coffee table and walked out the door. He inhaled the crisp autumn air and tilted his head up to look at the purple-tinted sunset; maybe he just needed a walk.

He had no specific destination in mind, but after a good amount of time he wound up walking the length of a shady alleyway.

"'Ey, Lewis!" shouted a voice somewhere behind him. When he looked around in front of him, he didn't see anyone else so he peeked over his shoulder.

A scrawny man in his late twenties was running up to him with a toothy grin…well, with as many teeth as he had anyway. He had a round face and days of stubble littering his jaw. His hair was an ashy blond color and was sticking up in every which direction.

"Lewis!"

Then Mitchell realized exactly who this was, and why he kept being referred to as 'Lewis'. This was his incognito name he used back when he had experimented with heroin. It was too late to hide as the rail thin man caught up to him.

"Hey, Billy." Mitchell muttered unenthusiastically as he spun on his heel to face him completely now.

Billy tried catching his breath, but he was gleaming at Mitchell as if he were some celebrity wandering the back alley in Kent.

"H-hey man…I haven't seen you…for a while, man. Where've you been?" He asked between breaths.

Mitchell groaned internally and looked up at the grey clouded sky. "I told you, Billy. I'm clean now." If only Billy had realized how many ways that could be interpreted coming from a vampire.

Billy shook his head and waved his hand in front of his face as if Mitchell was being modest about something. "Sure, sure, man. But a deal's a deal." He began rummaging in his ragged coat pocket.

Mitchell's heart began to race when he could hear the cracking sounds of a plastic baggie. He shook his head frantically. "No, no! Remember I said I don't want any favors in return. Just…just take it as a…gesture of gratitude or something."

Billy was paying no attention. He quickly looked around them before extracting a small baggie full of a snow white powder and quickly shoved it in Mitchell's arms.

"Don't tell no one! It's just between us, huh?!" Billy had a slight whistle when he pronounced his S's and the quirky grin on his face was growing from ear to ear. It made Mitchell uncomfortable as he stared down at the substance in his hand.

Mitchell looked up at Billy and shook his head, holding his hand out toward Billy with the bag. "I can't, Billy. I'm tempted…but I can't."

But Billy hurriedly shoved Mitchell's hand away, this time frowning and his smile disappeared. "Don't be so careless! Anybody could see us. I'm not riskin' more copper time, you hear me? You already got me outta that once!" He squawked so loud it made Mitchell jump.

There were voices of pedestrians nearby, and Billy leaned in as close to Mitchell's face as he could without touching him. "Remember, a deal's a deal," and he bolted off before a group of three young women turned the corner.

Mitchell frantically stuffed the bag into his coat pocket; Billy disappeared before he could even call his name.

The young women were laughing hysterically at something they were gossiping about. Mitchell hung his head low, stuffed his hands in his pocket, and walked in their direction to go home. His hand was white-knuckling the bag so hard, as if these women would inspect him.

To his surprise, they stopped a few feet ahead and their voices dropped to whispers, but he could still hear what they were saying. They were cooing at how attractive they thought he was, wondering what he'd look like without 'all those layers on'.

He could smell their blood as if it were painted on his face. When one of them suggested trying to get his attention, a blonde woman stopped in his path and his shoulder bumped into her roughly as he just wanted to get home.

The woman scuffed at him, "_Asshole_! You saw me standing there!" She shouted in his ear and pounded an angry fist into his back.

Without warning from even within himself, his head snapped to his left and his eyes were as black as night, his brows knitted together in anger. His blood was boiling. The blonde woman froze on the spot while her two friends screamed.

Mitchell roughly placed his hand over the blonde woman's mouth and shoved her backwards against the back of a building. He shot the other two women a look of complete and utter hatred, which caused them to flee and abandon their friend.

Mitchell turned his black eyes back to the woman in front of him. His other arm was horizontal to both her shoulders, pinning them to the building as well.

"You haven't the _slightest clue_ who I am." He hissed. He could feel his fangs poking his lip just slightly when he spoke. The woman was trembling and tears were pouring from her circular grey eyes.

Mitchell's chest rose and fell heavily; he could hear the pulse throbbing in her neck with each passing second, blood pumping furiously, her body preparing for escape. He leaned in to the crook of her neck, his panting breath deflecting off her clammy skin.

She began to struggle and whine under his grip, making the encounter all the more enticing.

He removed his arm that was holding her shoulders back and instead pressed his body against hers to trap her. As he bared his fangs and began to open his mouth, there was hardly any hesitation before his teeth cut through her skin like hot butter.

But the sound in return was not that of agony…but of a gasp of pleasure. Mitchell frowned deeply, whipping his head up to see the woman's grey eyes replaced by black ones.

Mitchell's face screwed up in disgust and his eyes returned to normal. He took a few paces back, but the woman was grinning and followed him. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and smashed her mouth against his.

"Come on, you started it." She breathed. He could feel a rush deep within his bones that he had not felt for ages, but something about this woman now completely turned him off. He felt her hand slip into his pants pocket.

He caught sight of her face which was mere inches from his. His eyes were shadowed with confusion and anger and his lips were lightly stained with red. Her eyes were grey again; her neck had two parallel red lines running down to her clavicle where he left his mark.

She didn't break her gaze as she swiped her neck wither her finger and gingerly wiped it on her tongue. Mitchell watched, puzzled, before once again she met his lips with hers. This time, she slid her blood-stained tongue onto his, and the taste of its sweetness was nearly enough to change again. His eyes closed and they rolled in his head, but he felt her pull away as soon as she'd noticed.

She leaned in to his ear and whispered, "too late." He felt her hand pull out of his pocket as she strutted down the alley like nothing had happened.

He released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding as he crouched forward. It was nearly completely dark now; the skies were a deep navy blue. He looked to his left and as he watched the blonde woman walk away in the distance, her silhouette was matched with a second one. This was clearly a man's figure. He half expected them to turn around for round two, but they continued until they were out of Mitchell's sight.

Mitchell slid down the stony wall he was up against, taking deep breaths to regain his composure.

He knew this would happen. As good of an accomplishment he made over the last several months, he knew it would never last. It never did.

Tilting his head back against the stone wall, he closed his eyes and came to realization of something: at first, he had thought the woman stole the drugs, but she hadn't gone in his coat pocket.

Frowning, he lazily dug through his pants pocket until his hand landed on something cold and metal. He frowned, his eyes still closed. He pulled out the stringy object and opened his eyes.

Holding it upward where his eyes could see, his mouth dropped open, his chest began to heave, and for the first time since he could remember, tears stung his eyes. Against the moonlight above him, he held George's Star of David necklace in his quivering hand.

Teeth locking together, he rolled forward and curled up with his forehead against the pavement and he allowed himself to let go and cry. George's necklace was gripped in his fist by his head, and he choked out an echoing "NO!". His eyes were clenched tightly, and somewhere down the alley way in the distance, he could hear laughter.

They were laughing and basking in his misery, the two vampires he had thought were long gone. But he didn't care right now.

After a while, he got to his feet. He wiped any evidence of blood away from his mouth halfheartedly and his face shone after being layered with tears.

He felt complete anger now, a new sense of raw rage. He walked zombie-like back home, his hands in his coat pockets. One grasped George's necklace, and the other the drug.

Once inside his house, he bolted his door before walking straight to the bathroom. He shredded his soiled clothing that reeked of the vampire woman and stepped into the shower, scrubbing down his body as thoroughly as he could.

"_Too late…_" played her voice in his head.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he removed the objects from his coat pocket before bunching the dirty clothes together and tossed them onto the clothes-ridden floor in his bedroom upstairs.

"Jesus, Mitchell, what has happened to you…" he muttered aloud to himself.

He ran a hand through his wet mane and looked into his other hand where the heroin and George's necklace both lay.

He stared long and hard in contemplation at the white powder…tempted…so tempted.

Instead, he placed it inside his bedside table drawer. He studied George's necklace up close this time now that he had proper light. He could see there were still tiny specs of blood embedded in the grooves of the chain. He placed it on his dresser for the moment as he heard a knock at the front door.

He made his way downstairs, one hand gripping the back of his towel to avoid it slipping on front of a stranger, and the other opening the door to find…not a stranger, but Evelyn.

Already, the apples of her cheeks were quickly turning a shade of tomato red, but rather than run away as Mitchell half expected, she busted out laughing.

"I'm s-hhhorry…but after…not seeing you for a few days, this is so awkward, I don't know where to look, should I go home?" she rambled between fits of laughter. She was trying to keep her eyes on Mitchell's face only and not on the fact that he was half naked and dangerously close to all-the-way naked. It was near impossible, because he was undeniably a beautiful man. But this was still an unexpected encounter.

Mitchell laughed, his brows raised slightly. "If you come in I promise I will put on some clothes." He smirked; her hands were covering her burning cheeks as she stepped through the threshold under Mitchell's arm.

"Be right back, oh, and feel free to have a look around." He called as he jumped up the stairs. He dropped his towel and threw on a charcoal grey tanktop, underwear and jeans before meeting Evelyn back in the front room.

She was having a look at all the collectibles and furniture. "You have an eclectic taste. I never would have expected it." She threw a quick friendly smile his way before tilting her head to read the artist labels on the musical records.

Mitchell smiled in return, plopping himself down on the couch. "A lot of this is Annie's doing, at least the décor and design. Nearly everything else is George, but we all shared out tastes in music. I'll let Annie know you said that, you have no idea how proud she was when she was finished with the place." His eyes squinted some as he smiled thinking about those days.

Evelyn looked over at him. She wasn't sure why, but through his crinkle-eyes smile she saw a broken man. A lot of the time when he spoke of his past, it was with remorse or grief…something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But it was there.

"Have you talked to Annie since she left?" She pondered, slowly walking around to observe the knick knacks. The room was fairly spacious, but looked huge when only one person lived here.

Mitchell nodded, looking down at his hands. "Just once, I'm surprised she hasn't called since actually. I suppose she's up to her neck with planning her wedding. I can't imagine what she has in store for Cedric." He gave a small belly laugh as he felt the couch beside him sink a little as Evelyn sat. There was a slight whiff of air and he could smell her again.

After very recent events in the alley, he was still in a semi-fragile state as far as blood went. But he would not allow himself into that state of mind while he had company.

"Well next time you talk to her, you really do have to tell her she did a great job with this place. At least you have something to remember her by while she's away."

Mitchell chuckled, "I promise. Just don't be surprised if she shows up here intending to revamp your place also."

Evelyn grinned, looking to her left seemingly in thought.

For a moment, Mitchell allowed himself a proper look at her. She had a keen eye for clothing. He considered it a bit alternative and a feminine twist on what he would wear. She had a tiny frame and he could tell she was one of those lucky few to be born that way. Her face was also small, heart-shaped, and he had just noticed the stitches from her wound had been removed and it was halfway healed.

When she turned her head he pretended to be looking at something just beyond her.

"Mitchell…" She spoke softly; it was nearly a whisper.

His eyebrows raised in attentiveness. "Yes?"

She hesitated just for a second. "I have a favor to ask of you. And you can say no, really, I just-"

"Evelyn." Mitchell gently interrupted her. This seemed to catch her by surprise as she hastily swung her face around. Her emerald eyes caught his hazel ones, "Whatever it is…I'll do it."

Evelyn wasn't sure what to say. Who was this man that wanted to be a part of her life so bad? She wasn't complaining, just that the odds were so slim that all this change was occurring in her life with no one to share it with one moment, and then she meets someone at the most impeccable timing.

"Will you go to my first treatment with me?" She was playing with her fingers now.

Mitchell gave her a reaction that read 'you're crazy for having to ask'. "Of course I will, yeah. We'll try to make it fun."

Evelyn grinned from ear-to-ear.

After a brief minute of silence, Mitchell's face relaxed and he watched her fiddle with her hands. "Are you scared?"

She had a feeling he wasn't just referring to her upcoming treatments. She stared off into the room at nothing in particular and nodded. "I am. I'm trying to be optimistic, and I think I will be after a few treatments. But it's hard to hear you're at stage three already when it's only just been found. When I was at home, when I was diagnosed originally…they told me we'd caught it early."

Mitchell just listened. He was in another situation where he felt nothing he could say or do could make it go away.

"Dr. McNally called me yesterday. After they looked more into it, they gave me a survival rate of seventy percent." She said. Mitchell was unsure if she was happy about this or not.

He thought about it for a moment. "That's good though. I mean think about it, it's quite a ways over half and surely it could have been caught even later. Your odds could be a lot lower."

Evelyn nodded in agreement, she couldn't rebut that. "But I should warn you…I might respond negatively to the chemo, at least on the first few tries. A lot of people do. And I'll lose my hair. So much for growing it out, huh?" She asked rhetorically as she grasped pieces of her hair between her fingers.

Mitchell studied her behavior and then smirked a crooked smirk. "I'll be sure to bring a barf bucket with us, but you're responsible for cleaning it." He teased.

Evelyn playfully glared at him and gently whacked him on the chest. "And _I'll_ be sure not to aim for the bucket!" She retorted sarcastically, smiling.

"Ooo, ouch. Someone's got such a _small _punch with those big words!" He jested and curled in a fetal position in the corner of the couch, anticipating a complete smackdown now. He was grinning widely, side-eyeing her reaction.

She grabbed a pillow from the couch and gingerly, though also using a bit of force, began whacking him with it as he covered his head with his arms.

"You're a sly bastard, aren't ya!" She exclaimed through her laughter.

But she didn't know who she was messing with; due to his vampiric abilities, he was stronger than the average man his age. At least, what would be his human age.

He grabbed the pillow as she was about to whack him and gingerly shoved her back down onto the couch with it. Quickly, he shuffled over and sat on the pillow which was lying on her.

"_Oh, God_" She croaked, making exaggerated dying animal sounds. "What do you weigh, three hundred pounds?! I'm gonna become one with this couch any second now!"

Mitchell threw his head back in laughter, crossing his arms. "And you think that will give you immunity?!"

"Okay, you win…this round. Kindly remove your arse." She wheezed as Mitchell stood and gave her a hand to help her up.

Once she was stable, she looked at her watch. "I should probably get going, it's nearly midnight."

"Yeah, it's good to know when to admit defeat…" He quipped with a mockingly serious face, his brows furrowed in fake worry.

Evelyn placed her hands on both his shoulders and began pushing him backwards. When she successfully reached the door, she gave his hair a tug. "Good_night_!"

And she was gone. Mitchell still had a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He bolted his door, and peered through the window as Evelyn walked out of sight back home. He flicked off all the lights before hopping his way upstairs and into his oversized bed.

This had been a much improved conclusion to his night, but he was aware that earlier events from the evening still posed to be a future problem. For now, he would sleep knowing he had a life again.


	5. A Day of Firsts

Ch. 5 – A Day of Firsts

Mitchell was hysterical, rabid, and most of all, thirsty. He was sprinting through his house, looking for a source. After what felt like hours of ravaging through every room and destroying furniture and valuables, he came to a dead halt. His source…was twelve houses down.

He ripped open his door, eyes as black as night and fangs protruding. He nearly ran to his destination of 301 Boyd Street. His clothed fist pounded at the door; he could barely stand still. When a familiar face opened the door, a grin plastered on her face, he didn't wait even a second for a greeting before his hands dug into her shoulders.

By now, any sound was mum and he couldn't hear Evelyn's cries of struggle. Forcefully, he pushed her forward as her small hands grasped at his arms. There was a complete expression of panic written on her face; it made him anxious for a drink.

She was screaming now, but he couldn't hear anything besides her pulse as if it were trying to kick through her flesh.

"_Too late._"

He shoved her down in a corner, bared his fangs, and lowered his face until he-  
**

Mitchell threw open his eyelids, his hazel eyes nearly bursting from his school as he frantically observed his surroundings. Early morning sunlight was bursting through his bedroom window. Everything was intact. He was in his own house.

Beads of sweat began flowing like rivers down his face, his chest heaving heavily up and down and his muscles ached with strain. Realizing it was only a nightmare, he slowly began to relax his muscles and regain his normal heart rate again. He could feel that he had sweated through his clothes.

Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down in his face in both a mix of relief and utter shame.

He groggily swung his feet over his bed, his face scrunched as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

It was Friday, the big day. It was also 6:30 A.M. which made Mitchell cringe. Over the past few days, he and Evelyn had been relatively attached at the hip with spending time together. He decided that if he wanted to reduce his urges to drink, avoiding her altogether would actually be less beneficial than being around her.

His nightmare, however, was telling him otherwise.

The longer he put her off, the worse his appetite became because it was out of his reach. Plus, Evelyn was fun. He liked her.

He _really_ liked her.

Although it had been only a few weeks since they met, they had spent nearly every hour with each other minus a small dry patch and when they slept in their respective homes.

But the more he got to know her and watch her, the more she grew on him. She wasn't just a cancer victim wanting to be coddled or pitied. At first she portrayed herself as quite shy, which she still was at times. But she was becoming much more open and outgoing with him while they were together. She was charismatic, genuinely sweet, and could be a real smartass at times.

This was quite appealing to him, however. She made him soft; he'd never felt so vulnerable or open to such thoughts before. If Annie were here, she would give him the hardest time about how she knew deep down beneath his 'cool, though guy' shell, there was an affectionate human being.

Also, as much as he tried avoiding thinking it, Evelyn was a beautiful, alluring woman on the outside as well. He had always lusted after women his entire life, but those affairs usually ended in bloodshed – whether it be a dead body or a sexually rampant vampire woman by the end.

He put those thoughts aside now, partially because he was certain she felt this relationship could only be platonic, and also because he needed to get ready for the day's events.

Evelyn's treatment was in two hours and was taking place at a cancer center more into the city and it would be about an hour-long train ride. He wasn't entirely positive what would come of it, and frankly neither did Evelyn. He packed extra clothes and a credit card just in case things didn't work as planned and they had to stay in the city. He was more afraid of Evelyn being too sick to travel home.

Stripping off his close, he took a quick cold shower to wash off the sweaty evidence of his nightmare. Ever since his run-in with the strange vampire woman, her words echoed in his mind but especially during his sleep. "_Too late_."

What did it mean? Or did it mean anything? Maybe he was only being paranoid, but either way, he wasn't taking any chances.

He walked over to the table beside his bed and fingered open the drawer, pulling out the small bag of powder. He reached in further with his other hand, and grasped an unused syringe. He stared at them for what seemed like eternity, a bit unsure if this was the right thing to do. If Evelyn caught him with either of these things, she would certainly avoid him like the plague.

He combed his fingers through his thick mess of wet curls and put on a black tank top, black jacket, and black skinny jeans, along with a pair of deep green fingerless gloves. He called a cab company to have them be there in a half hour for drop-off at the train station.

There was a soft knock at his door. He quickly dispensed of the objects in his hands into his jacket pocket before descending the stairs two at a time and opened the door to meet Evelyn. She had a small travel bag full of things; he assumed she was taking precautions as well.

"'Morning!" She chirped and stepped inside.

"They're dreadful." He croaked. "Coffee?" He asked as he already began brewing a pot.

"Oh, _please_." She slumped her shoulders in an exaggerated manner as if she were melting.

"Are you ready for today?" He asked in all seriousness as he poured two mugs to the brim with coffee, handing one to Evelyn.

She shrugged, "you know what they say…'as ready as I'll ever be' I suppose. Take one last good look at me because in a week I'm going to look like a naked mole rate."

Mitchell gave her 'the look', the one he would now give her each time she poked fun at herself for things out of her control. He playfully nudged her with his elbow in the same moment.

"As long as your smart-arsery stays intact, it won't matter." He smiled, downing his piping hot coffee.

He heard a car pull up. "That would be ours. Ready?"

She took her last mouthful of coffee before she nodded. She led the way as Mitchell hiked his bag over his shoulder and locked everything up behind him. Once they were buckled in and Mitchell gave the driver their destination, they were off.

It wasn't long into the ride when Evelyn had fallen asleep and her head lolled onto Mitchell's shoulder. He snuck a peek at her. Her freckled cheeks, her lips, her fringe that barely swept her cheekbones and would be gone soon. The smell of her blood pumping calmly. In just over an hour her life would be functioning completely differently.

Feeling a waft of sleepiness overcome him, he gently rested his head atop hers and allowed himself a short rest until they arrived.

There was a small jolt of the car that indicated they'd stopped. Mitchell squinted open his eyes and nudged Evelyn. He pulled cash out of his pocket for the driver, grabbed his bag and they exited.

In front of them stood an immaculate architecture of blue and white with endless windows. They both stood there for a moment to properly wake up.

Evelyn sighed, slowly exhaling through her mouth. "Here goes…" and Mitchell followed behind her through the revolving doors. The interior was just as jaw-dropping; this clearly was a new building.

After Evelyn signed them in and she was given direction, they were on the next elevator up to the tenth floor. Evelyn's heart was thumping ever faster, and being in the enclosed structure was almost becoming nauseating for Mitchell. It was as if her blood was beginning to seep through her pores and straight up his nostrils.

Thankfully, the elevator let up and they exited. Evelyn led the way, following the signs on the wall. This hospital was quite different from the ones back at home; the walls were made of marble and the hallways were significantly wider. It felt much less stagnant and intimidating here.

They passed through a set of double-doors before they were greeted by a blue-carpeted room. There was an entire wall dedicated to windows and it was rounded rather than squared, similar to a bay window but oversized. Around those windows sat several people, and they quickly figured out this was the waiting room.

Evelyn was eyeing the door just beyond them. "I think that's where I need to go." Her breathing was beginning to pick up and her hands became clammy. She looked up at Mitchell as if he held all the answers.

"I'll be right here the whole time. Look, they have coffee and the telly, and…a lot of depressed family members to bond with." He offered her a purposely over-exaggerated smile.

She didn't seem convinced, either that or she was having some serious doubts as she looked back at the doors.

"Come on," Mitchell made a gesture of his head toward the door. "I'll walk you there. But I doubt they will let me in there." He led the way and when they reached the doors, they faced one another. Evelyn's eyes were already starting to fill.

Mitchell hiked his backpack further up his shoulder, pried her bag from her white-knuckled hand, and shook his head at her, using both of his thumbs to gently wipe at her eyes. "We can't have _that_! You're less than a yard away from making the smartest decision of your life."

"I know," she managed to say without losing her voice. "I don't know why I'm so scared. Before we got on the elevator I was rearing to go. Now that we're here I almost don't want to. What if it doesn't work? What if it spread and what-"

"Evelyn." Mitchell interjected sternly. "After you walk through these doors, there are no more 'what ifs'. But if you don't go through with this now, then…" He shook his head, looking for the right words. "Then they will become reality." He decided to go for the blunt route, and it seemed to work.

Before he could allow her a chance to doubt again, he reached above her head and propped open the door and his other hand rested on her shoulder, lightly guiding her forward into the room. Once she was across the threshold, she looked back at him one more as if she were entering death's doorway.

He gave her an encouraging smile. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." He shut the door but watched through the circular window as she smiled in return and waved before a doctor came and led her further into the room.

Mitchell sighed and turned around, eyeing an empty table in the corner which he claimed for himself. The stench of blood here was nearly intolerable. His hand found the lump in his coat pocket, his leg fidgeting nervously. The temptation was overbearing, and somebody was watching his odd behavior from across the room. He took his hand back and knitted it with his other one.

It was too risky right now, here.

After an immeasurable amount of hours of pacing, several trips to the coffee carafe (which he was certain he finished all by himself), and bathroom breaks, the double doors which led to the treatment area opened.

A nurse was cautiously walking beside and behind Evelyn, whose eyes looked slightly weary and she had a slow gait about her. Mitchell stood from his seat and walked on over to them.

The nurse was a younger woman with plaited jet black hair and a kind expression. Her eyes found Mitchell's, whose were scanning Evelyn as if inspecting any physical damage.

"Ms. O'Gorman did fantastically." The nurse chirped happily, though she kept her voice low. A smile tugged at Mitchell's eyes as Evelyn came to a halt and her tired eyes found Mitchell.

"Put her there," Evelyn said with traces of exhaustion in her voice, raising a fist. Mitchell laughed an open-mouthed laugh and gently bumped his fist against hers.

The nurse kept a hand on Evelyn's upper back as if she expected her to fall backwards at any moment. "Are you John Mitchell? Evelyn said she had somebody with her in case she needed a drive home. Treatments can make a patient fatigued and often times the first few will create some nausea. Now, we've given her some medication that she can take if she starts to feel ill." She turned her attention to Evelyn. "If you still feel sick after the medication or you feel abnormally tired within the next few days, doctor will want a follow-up to make sure there's not a negative reaction to the chemo drugs."

Evelyn nodded as she slowly turned her body. "Thank you, Lisa. I think I'm just tired right now." With that, the nurse left.

Mitchell's smile grew wider after the nurse left and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

"Told you." He mumbled teasingly before he went and grabbed their bags and walked with her out of the building. She wasn't in horrible shape, but he kept a keen eye on her as her reactions to things were delayed. At times, she would trip over her own feet.

When they stepped outside and the cool breeze hit their faces, Mitchell realized they didn't exactly have a plan. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm _starved_. But to be honest, I've never really been here…but I'm sure there's a pub somewhere nearby." She placed her hands on her achingly hungry stomach.

"Let's have a look." Mitchell said, leading them down a path where it was a bit more populated. It was just past midday now. After a short five-minute walk, they stopped in front of a rustic building. The exterior was designed to look like a cabin.

When they walked in, they were welcomed by an unusually warm atmosphere. They got a booth near the window and each ordered their food. Mitchell knitted his hands together and rested his chin on them, staring at Evelyn.

Something was happening to him internally. He could not only feel it, but he couldn't force his eyes away from Evelyn's neck where a portion of her skin was pulsating. The warmth of the diner was making the smell so much more appetizing. Warm, red liquid, all within a foot of his reach…

He hadn't realized she was talking to him until she waved a hand in front of his eyes.

He raised his eyebrows and dragged his eyes over to look at her.

"What's the matter? You seem more dazed than I do." She pointed out, folding her hands in her lap.

He smiled half-heartedly and rubbed his eyes. "I'm not really a morning person, plus I haven't really had a meal today, so…" He trailed off. "I'm going to use the toilet." He said abruptly, speed-walking to the men's room. Evelyn looked after him, concerned.

Mitchell thanked whoever was listening when he realized it was a single toilet and not several. He hastily locked the door behind him, leaning against it as he tried catching his breath.

"_Idiot_." He breathed to himself. "You _fucking_ idiot." He grabbed a chunk of hair at the crown of his head, his brows furrowed in anger. There was really only one thing he could do that could help, other than abandoning Evelyn here by herself.

His hand reached into his pocket and he shakily pulled out the drug and the needle. He walked over to the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. His face lost any color it had left in it, and his lids were heavy. His hands were jittering and his body was beginning to sweat.

_Don't do this again_, he thought. _You've controlled it before and you can do it again_.

He crumbled to the door and his arms wrapped around his neck, trembling. The thirst for blood and the demand to cease it were tugging at him in different directions.

_What would Annie think? And George…Eve, if she were here. And Evelyn…she's waiting for you. She needs you._ A voice in his head whispered, though it sounded vaguely like Annie's.

Mitchell stuffed his fist in his mouth; he wanted to let it all out but everyone would surely hear him, see what was going on and then call the authorities on him. His face was damp now.

Before he could put anymore thought into it, he stood up, threw the needle to the floor and put all his weight into smashing it into a thousand little pieces. He then tossed the heroin and broken needle pieces into the toilet and flushed immediately. He exhaled; he wasn't entirely sure if he felt better or the same.

He quickly splashed his face with cool water before giving himself another minute to appear normal. Once his heart rate decreased, he coolly stepped back out into the crowd. He wasn't sure how long he had been preoccupied in there, but by the look on Evelyn's face and the fact that their food was already on the table, it was long enough.

"What happened? You were acting quite…abnormal, even for you." Evelyn quipped, sticking a spoon in her soup whilst eyeing his appearance.

Mitchell slid into the booth, the smell of his extra-rare steak teasing his taste buds. He looked up at Evelyn with a genuine apologetic expression. She truly had no idea what it was like.

"I got the _worst_ stomach ache. I can describe it in detail if you'd like?" He bantered, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. She stopped mid-sip and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not if you don't want to suffer third-degree burns." She retorted playfully.

Mitchell smirked and continued to cut open his steak. It was pure, blood red…just how he liked him. His mouth was salivating.

Evelyn eyeballed his steak as red juices flowed out from it. Her stomach turned. "That's disgusting! What are you, a-"

Mitchell stiffened.

"-an animal?" She stared with a look of distaste as she continued on with her soup.

Mitchell contemplated his answer as he stuck a huge chunk of steak between his teeth and flung his head up at Evelyn. "_Maybe_." While it was no substitute for human blood, the blood of his food was somewhat of a comfort. Why he hadn't thought of that before his bathroom break, he didn't know.

What he did know was that this problem needed to be solved, and _fast_.

"And what is _that_?" Mitchell prodded his fork in the direction of Evelyn's bowl. "It looks like a dog hurled in your bowl." He teased.

Evelyn chipped off a piece of bread from her roll and flicked it at Mitchell's forehead, doubling over in laughter at his priceless reaction. His mouth fell open, but it was a struggle to keep it widening to a smile.

"You are unbelievable. I can't actually believe you." But saying this only made her laugh harder, though now she could barely breathe. "Aw, oh no. What happened? Wait, I think I can help."

He grabbed half a handful of mashed potatoes it across Evelyn's face. This time, he was the one who could hardly contain himself.

"You bastard! Alright." She looked around and grabbed a fistful of green beans off his plate, throwing them at his face as he cowered in his seat with her arms covering his head.

By now, they had drawn the attention of the entire room with their shrieking, including the manager. The hefty man waddled over to their table, his eyebrows so knitted together they formed a unibrow.

His booming voice roared at them to get out immediately, that they were disturbing his customers and wasting their valuable food. Mitchell and Evelyn were still belly laughing, until Mitchell suddenly stopped and stood straight in front of the manager.

Mitchell's brows mocked the manager's, though he couldn't quite achieve the one eyebrow appearance. He puffed out his chest, as the manager's was. Ever so slowly, his feet were inching toward the front door. Evelyn was observing this, amused.

"We're sorry, sir. We will leave now…" His hands held behind his back, his fingers crawled backwards and he grasped the ketchup bottle, tilting it just slightly until he felt the cool condiment fill his hand. Evelyn took a step closer to the door because she that after this, they were going to need to run.

"I doubt we'll ever _catch up_." With that, Mitchell hurriedly spread his handful of ketchup all across the manager's face and almost within the same moment, ushered Evelyn out the door as he followed at her heels.

They were bolting down the sidewalk, out of breath from both laughter and at the rate they were going. They could hear the diner manager shouting for someone to sic the police on them, but his hollering was quickly fading the further they ran.

Eventually, they were a couple blocks down past the hospital as they took a sharp corner. They stopped, trying to catch their breath but losing it as they bellowed with laughter. Mitchell rested his hands on his knees and Evelyn tilted her face up toward the sky taking deep breaths.

"His…face…my God…!" Evelyn breathed, the autumn air stinging her lungs.

"He thought he was doing himself a favor…but we got a free meal out of it." He grinned widely and sat up normally again.

Evelyn stepped in front of him and poked him in the chest. "_You_, are going to get _me_ in trouble…one of these days."

Mitchell's face twisted in fake distraught. "_Me?_ Alright, Mrs. Potato head. Whatever you say. I doubt you would have gotten yourself out of there without my help." He jokingly challenged, lightly swiping at the potato remnants left on her cheek.

He caught a whiff of her adrenaline-filled blood in passing, it made him dizzy, but he shut it out. He took a hold of her hand that was poking at him, but didn't let go right away.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his face in a more serious placement now.

She froze for a moment; his hand was like ice, and he wasn't letting go. She wasn't sure what, or how, to think for a minute. "You're such a buzzkill. If I were sick, would I have been able to run that distance?" She asked, eyebrows slightly raised. She only now noticed how much taller he was than her, and that they were standing relatively close to one another.

"Like I said," Mitchell leaned in so close, their noses were nearly touching. "My help." He had a sideways smile plastered on his face as he let her hand free and walked away.

Evelyn let out a breath she had been holding, watching him strut away. She jogged to catch up with him. "What now?"

Mitchell shrugged, his head swiveling left and right to see what was around them. "I think you should pick."

"Hmmm…" She wasn't entirely positive what constituted as strictly friend activities versus beyond that. Well, besides the obvious.

The truth was she was beginning to feel immensely attached to Mitchell. She could say it wasn't because he felt bad for her, because she knew that he did even when he tried to hide it. And that's probably what made him stick around this long. But she couldn't lie that it was having a profound impact on her feelings for him. She knew that much of what he had been there for was possibly out of at least a little obligation; if she hadn't spilled the beans about not knowing or having anybody left in her life, things might be different.

But she knew that somewhere behind his stubborn, hard shell, he genuinely cared for her health…and possibly her. She would see it in his face more than anything else.

She just didn't want to step beyond either of their comfort zones until she was sure about how they both felt. Right now, that was just a level of very good friends.

"Okay, I have an idea. But you're going to probably think it's too girly. I think it's time to get in touch with your feminine side, Mitchell." She said as they stopped mid-walk to hear her idea.

Mitchell raised his eyebrows, doubting this plan of hers. It already sounded…daunting. "I think I'm afraid to ask. But I already gave the reins to you, so…"

Evelyn pointed in the direction of a rather elegant-looking hotel building just beyond where they were standing across the street. "Hotel room, British soap operas, Chinese food, and the most comfortable beds you have ever slept on. I've only been in a hotel once in my whole life. It sounds really childish, but I never went back after I nearly drowned in the pool when I was five, so…." She sighed; Mitchell was staring at her incredulously.

He hadn't quite expected it to go in this direction, and it probably wouldn't be the safest idea to be holed up in an enclosed room with her and his issues…but the look on her face was too much to deny.

When he didn't answer after a second, she continued. "If you accept, I'll buy."

"No, no, you don't have to coax me with money. But I'll do it." He promised, with a small twinge of worry pulling at his stomach.

After they had checked in, they made their way up in the elevator. Mitchell nearly had a stroke when she suggested they use it considering his previous elevator incident, but the interior of these were made of all mahogany.

They were at least twenty stories high until they reached their floor. Evelyn swiped the card key through the door and they walked in. There were massive windows that lined the entire wall and revealed endless green plains. The ground rose and fell; Mitchell hadn't noticed anything like this when they were outside.

"It's kind of like home if you forget where you really are." Evelyn said. There were two fairly large beds at one wall, and toward the door was a rather exquisite bathroom.

Mitchell was gazing out at the open land in awe. "You wouldn't think this existed with all the city traffic outside. But you're right…it is like home." He couldn't remember the last time he'd even been to his native land in Ireland, but this sure as hell made him nostalgic for it.

He could hear Evelyn on the phone already ordering their dinner. Though they had just eaten, due to circumstances completely _in_ their control, they had barely touched a quarter of their food. She was saying menu items he'd never heard before, and he really couldn't pick out which of those items he'd be eating.

He flopped backwards onto his claimed bed with his arms out and instantly his body sank into the thick foamy mattress. It was like heaven.

Evelyn clicked off the phone and looked over her shoulder at Mitchell. "Was I right or what? I don't remember a lot about hotels, but I do remember the beds." She said as she belly flopped onto her respective bed, burying her face into the mattress.

"And that you almost drowned." Mitchell retorted, turning his head to see her shaking her fist at him.

"I don't think I'd be so keen as to lay _my_ face in these sheets…you don't know what people do in them." He teased, though he was also being truthful.

Evelyn pushed herself up onto her elbows and glared at him. "Not my bed. But probably yours…it has the better view. More romantic." She nodded in mock 'approval'.

Mitchell made a face. "What exactly are we eating?"

"Chicken-fried rice and chicken with vegetables in garlic sauce. And general's chicken." She rubbed her stomach in anticipation.

Mitchell chuckled. "That is a _shit_ load of chicken. My god."

As if he'd summoned it, there was a knock on their door. Evelyn slid off the bed and met the delivery man at the door before walking back in the room with a large plastic bag.

"We have to make a deal before we eat this." She said, pointing a finger at Mitchell. "No food flinging. It's too good to waste and unless you want to be sleeping on rice…"

Mitchell sat with his legs crossed on the floor. "Scout's honor." He said as he watched her sit and pull our several cartons of food. He leaned in to sniff all of them, but Evelyn lightly tapped his cheek.

"Get out of there; I have to prepare it first." She smiled and he sat straight up.

She prepared each of them a variety of food on plastic plates before sliding one to Mitchell. "Now the big questions is…fork, or chop sticks?" She held both up with her hands, and Mitchell snatched the fork with a mock evil laugh.

By the time they were done, Mitchell had eaten every last grain of rice when Evelyn had complained of herself over-eating.

"Sounds like you'll be having one of those terrible stomach aches later on, huh?" She jested from her bed. Mitchell was sitting in the leather chair in the corner by the window, his face a bit twisted in pain.

"If I do I'll be sure to leave you a gift while you're sleeping later." He joked, but his stomach was so near bursting he could barely speak.

Evelyn sat up quickly, her face screwed up with a sick feeling. "Actually…I think I'm going to-"She suddenly sprung up from her bed and sprinted into the bathroom. Mitchell sat up as fast as his digestive system would allow him, but he could already hear the echoes of her food coming up in the toilet.

He gave her a moment to herself until he peeked in. She was resting her arm on the rim of the toilet with her cheek on her arm. When Mitchell saw her about to purge again, he knelt down and bunched her hair in his hand and held it out of her way.

Once she was able to talk again, she thanked Mitchell before resting her cheek on her arm again. Her face was tinted a shade of green. "Could you do me a huge favor, Mitchell? Could you get me that medicine from the doctor…it's in my bag somewhere."

Without a word, Mitchell did just that. He fetched her some water as she took it all down. Evelyn sat up and leaned against the wall.

"That was weird. I felt fine all day." She muttered with a yawn that followed.

Mitchell was leaning on the counter. "Maybe it takes a while for the drugs to fill your system." He honestly hadn't a clue, but it seemed logical. He offered her his hand before pulling her up to her feet.

"Let's get you ready for bed; you've had a long day." He suggested as he walked behind her out into the main room. The sun was setting now, casting glorious orange haze over the green land.

Mitchell sat and watched as the sun slowly descended below the earth while Evelyn was in the shower. He heard the bathroom door open.

"Mitchell…" She called; her voice had a strange tone to it.

"Yeah?" He turned his head in the direction of the bathroom.

"Uh…I didn't bring extra clothes for tonight. Would you happen to have any? I expect not because guys don't usually over pack like ladies do. Except I only packed day clothes for tomorrow." She mumbled, peeking through the crack of the door with a towel wrapped around her.

Mitchell chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I should have something. It's going to be big on you though." He rummaged through his bag and grabbed a plain black t-shirt and the only thing he had for bottoms were some black boxer shorts. He hesitated on those, not wanting to completely make it awkward.

It was just underwear, right? It's not like either of them had never seen it before.

He snatched it anyway and turning his head so as to not see her, held out his arm until he felt her pull them away. "Thank you. Ooo, I've never worn _these_ suckers before." She joked in a fit of giggles.

Mitchell playfully rolled his eyes and shook his head and walked back over to his bed. The moon was nearly full, hanging at just the perfect spot outside the window.

When Evelyn came out from the bathroom, her hair was a long damp mess and Mitchell couldn't help but have a laugh. She truly did look like a miniature, female version of him. She was drowning in his shirt.

Evelyn side-eyed him speculatively as she prepped her bed.

"It's _adorable_." He reassured her, watching as her cheeks painted a pastel pink shade. He smiled to himself.

"Telly?" She asked as she buried herself beneath the fluffy white blanket. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

Mitchell pulled his blanket halfway up and rested his arm behind his head. This sort of thing was starting to become customary now. Whenever he'd have a ghastly day, it always seemed to conclude with him being completely grounded by Evelyn. He couldn't quite put his finger on why this was, but he had a feeling it was at least in part related to the fact that they were both battling demons, though wholly different types of demons. The unfair part was that she hadn't a clue about his. Realistically, he felt it _was_ fair that she didn't know, at least until he ever found the right moment to explain it to her.

He wasn't sure how much times had passed, but before he knew it, he was asleep. Evelyn was finishing an episode of a show when she looked over to find Mitchell passed out. She flicked off the T.V and quietly flipped over onto her side, adjusting herself to be comfortable.

The moonlight was pouring into their room, and it perfectly illuminated Mitchell. She stared at his peaceful, sleeping body. His chest rose and fell steadily. His jacket had been taken off and he was sleeping in a tank top. His had fairly defined muscles, even while relaxed.

Somehow, he managed to look lonely in the midst of his tranquility. Before she could properly think on it, her eyes fell heavy and soon she was sleeping, too.

Evelyn woke up, startled by the sound of heavy panting and the rustling of sheets. She let her eyes adjust until she watched as Mitchell was fidgeting in his sleep. His body sometimes looked as if it was strangling itself, and she could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

She slipped out of her blanket and quietly walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm and shook him a little, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Mitchell? _Mitchell_…wake up, you're havi-" She gasped when he abruptly sprung forward with an expression full of anxiety, his arms had grasped hers. Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned her head, half expecting an accidental head-butt. But instead, she felt the loosening of his grip on her arms and she slowly turned to look at him.

He rested his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his hair, catching up with his breath.

"Bad dream?" She inquired softly. He nodded, and she grabbed a tissue from the table between their beds and wiped his forehead dry.

He sat up a bit and looked at her moonlit face. "Thank you." He muttered quietly.

For a moment, the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. His face was a mere couple inches from hers, and just for a second she swore he leaned in closer before he pulled back and laid back down.

She shuffled back to her bed in silence, her heart pumping a little faster than normal. She sat there for a minute and then she grabbed her pillow and wrapped her blanket around her before padding to Mitchell's bed. She lay down beside him but leaving enough personal space. The questioning look on his face asked her what she was doing without words.

"I want to be here in case you have another one." She said sleepily, completely cocooned in her blanket. Mitchell smiled sleepily before they were asleep again.

Mitchell opened his eyes, and his next inhale was one full of the smell of blood. His eyes shot open without moving, but then he realized his situation: his nose was buried in the crook of Evelyn's neck, his arm wrapped securely around her small frame and her body molded into his. The sun was just beginning to rise above the plains. He smiled to himself and allowed sleep to come over him once more.


	6. An Act of War

**Ch. 6 – An Act of War**

Mitchell fell onto the couch, newspaper and coffee in hand. He held the phone between his jaw and shoulder as he propped his feet up onto the coffee table. It was Thursday morning and he was unemployed again. Evelyn began her classes on Monday after a near scare that she wouldn't be enrolling after all due to her illness. The school board was concerned with her having to miss some days due to her treatments and that it might have an impact on her learning. But rather than penalize her, they granted her several excusable sick leave days which she could make up for on the weekends or whenever she didn't have treatment.

Mitchell didn't feel as if he were getting anywhere just being the cleaning guy at the hospital, so he quit. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd do for income, but he made it by on his own before without much money. Eventually, he'd consider better employment, especially now that he had officially updated Annie on everything over the phone.

Minus the whole blood thirst fiasco, and the run-in with other vampires…or his frequent nightmares.

Since the morning after Evelyn's first treatment, when they woke up in each other's arms, somehow their relationship felt a bit strained. He seemed to have made the mistake of apologizing and explaining to her that it was an accident, an unconscious reaction while he was asleep. He could see it in her face that he had hurt her feelings, which only confirmed that she had feelings for him beyond just friendship.

But he panicked; he was positive she was only on strict-friend terms with him so he spluttered out the first excuse that came to him. He wasn't even entirely sure where he stood either, if he would want to pursue a deeper relationship.

The human part of him wanted to, the monster in him wanted him to in a completely and utterly dangerous way, which was also the part of him that wouldn't want to.

He explained this struggle to Annie, whom he was talking with on the phone now. It was already evening time over in Australia where she was. She was extremely happy; he could hear her smiling each time they spoke on the phone.

"You know, I can't just…I can't just _be_ in a relationship. I can't even just think about. I want to, but I can't." He wasn't sure if that really conveyed his feelings, but Annie was pretty good and understanding things without gritty details.

"If you _really_ want it you'll find a way to make it work," her voice came through the phone. "You have to figure out a way to discipline your…urges." She made a slight face of disgust to herself, though Mitchell couldn't see it. She wasn't sure which 'urges' even she was speaking of.

Mitchell set his paper down and rubbed the corners of his eyes. "I've tried, and…I can't tell if it's getting better or worse. When I think I'm headed in one way then I act on the other." He sighed, the best way to explain this to her was to bring up the restaurant incident. He left out the drug detail – he didn't do it so it didn't count, right?

Rather than a scolding from Annie, she shrieked with joy. "_See_?! You _do_ have control, Mitchell! It's possible! If it weren't, well…you'd probably be locked away in a prison cell right now. You just need to find a way to…practice that inner strength." Her voice chirped optimistically. Mitchell was smiling and shaking his head. Even when she knew what kind of damage he was capable of, she still cheered him on.

_Evelyn_

She had just walked into her door after her morning classes. She only had two today, and despite all her worry she felt she did decent. She kicked off her shoes, gathered some clean clothes from her bedroom, and made her way into the shower.

As she was lathering her extra-long mane with shampoo, she went to reach for the soap before noticing several locks of hair clinging to the back of her hand.

"Oh no, no…" She muttered to herself, gently pulling her hand further away so as to be sure this hair was separate from her head. Indeed, she was correct. She then looked down at the shower floor only to find more chunks of hair lying there as the water rinsed the soap through her hair and taking single strands with it.

Her eyes welled up; something about the hair loss reminded her of her condition and that it was indeed real. Some days, she forgot she was sick. Other days, the feeling of fatigue and nausea and being bed-ridden for hours would serve as a morbid realization.

Though she attempted to control herself, she began to sob. Her small body huddled up against the corner of the shower wall as she slid down it, becoming a trembling ball of frail skin and bones.

After a while, she came up with an idea, but she'd need help. She took deep breaths, not allowing herself to cry anymore today and she quickly finished her wash.

All within a few minutes she was dry, clothed, and her hair was combed. She turned around and looked over her shoulder in the mirror behind her. Rather than a thick mass of long mane, there was an inconsistent pattern of thinned out areas and places where it was obvious hair was missing.

All she had to do now was make a run to the market, and she'd be at Mitchell's front door.

_Mitchell_

He finally decided to wash all of his dirty clothes that littered every square inch of his bedroom floor. Just as he finished stuffing the washing machine, he heard a knock on his front door downstairs.

He scurried down the stairs and opened his door to find Evelyn standing there, plastic bag in hand.

"You're out early today." He observed, though he actually didn't quite have her schedule down to a tee just yet. She walked over the threshold,

"I only have two morning classes on Thursdays." She said without much emotion. She seemed preoccupied.

Mitchell shut the door behind him and frowned slightly. "What's the matter? Bad day?"

Evelyn sat at the edge of the couch and patted a spot next to her, where Mitchell joined her.

"Not necessarily a bad day…well, maybe. It started out fine…then I took a shower and this happened." From her bag she grabbed a relatively thick bunch of hair that was tied with a hair band and held it out to show Mitchell.

He didn't need any explanation to understand what was going on. He just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. His brows were knitted together in lament.

"So…I thought about it and I've decided to make a plunge." Her hand reached in the bag again, this time pulling out an electric hair clipper.

"You want to grow a beard?" Mitchell asked with sarcasm, though he wasn't positive where she was going with this.

She gently whacked his arm, "No, silly. I want to finish the job myself. But I need help so I want to give you the honors." She placed the tool in Mitchell's hand as he came to terms with this.

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you sure? You don't want to…savor what's left?"

She shook her head. "I feel like that's letting cancer win. I want to take the reins on this one. That way, no more surprises."

Mitchell smiled at this. In a completely different way, he understood where she was coming from. He knew this process was going to be an enormous rollercoaster of emotions, but he also knew the best method was to remain optimistic overall, even on your worst days.

He gestured with his head for her to follow him upstairs to the bathroom. She waited in the hall, checking out the upstairs portion of the house she'd never seen before. She peered into Mitchell's room as he went in there and noticed, upon closer inspection, a necklace bearing the Star of David on his dresser.

As Mitchell was looking for something, she walked in and took a closer look. "Do you practice Judaism?" Her voice took Mitchell by surprise; he hadn't noticed she was there.

He rummaged through his closet before coming across a towel that would be their makeshift drape. He looked over at her. "Oh, no…that actually belonged to George." He watched as her eyes seemed to have found the red specks of blood, and before she could ask any questions, he led her out of the room and into the bathroom.

"You hold this," he said as he handed her the towel and tools. "And I'll go find something you can sit on."

She took everything and looked into the mirror, but the strangest thing happened. She could have sworn on her grave that for the second Mitchell was in the room with her, he wasn't in the mirror with her. She closed her eyes for a moment; she was probably just tired. Even still, an odd mistake to make….

Mitchell hadn't thought of this problem before he made the decision to do this in the bathroom, but he couldn't decide if it would seem suspicious of him to suddenly change rooms. He paced back and forth, but he had a plan.

He found a wooden stool in the closet of the spare bedroom and went back to the bathroom.

"Alright, there's a catch. You can't look until I've finished." He crouched down a bit, trying to do so inconspicuously. He set the stool down and guided her to sit facing the wall so that her back was to the mirror, and he would be safe for now.

He draped the towel around her front and ripped some of it so that he could tie it in the back. He leaned over next to her to look at her.

"Ready?" He couldn't lie, he was a bit excited, though he wasn't sure why.

"Ready! Hurry before I change my mind." She said with a tight-lipped smile on her face.

Mitchell sat up straight and once the sound of buzzing began, he began smoothing out the top of her hair. He began at the side and gently brought the razor back as nearly two feet of hair fell to the floor. Evelyn was sitting as still as stone.

He continued this pattern until he got to the last of the left side, but when he got to the base of her head, the corner of the razor knicked her skin and a thin line of blood appeared. She flinched.

"_Sorry!_ I'm sorry, I…" His breathing began to hasten, his eyes unable to take themselves off the red mark.

"Is it bad?" She asked as she turned her head just slightly, wondering what was holding him up.

Mitchell sluggishly shook his head even though she couldn't see him. His hands were trembling now as his thumb glided over the cut to wipe it away.

"No, no it's little. We're almost done." He tried to camouflage the sound of his heavy breathing with the sound of the razor buzzing. He tried forcing himself to calm down so he didn't slip up again.

Once he regained a little control back, he finally made the last shave without any damage and switched the razor off. He wiped away all the loose hair; the floor looked like a brand new rug had just appeared below them.

"Done. You have a look and I'll go get you a bandage." He quickly ducked out of the room before she turned around to inspect herself. She walked closer to the mirror, rotating her head in every which direction to soak it in. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but this time they were of happiness. She grinned at the new her.

Mitchell came back, bandage in hand, and stayed out of the mirror's view as he stuck it onto where the cut was still oozing a bit. He forgot that she bled more easily than the average person, and it was nearly overwhelming his nostrils.

She turned to face him, and his heart accelerated for a completely different reason now.

"What do you think?" He asked, holding back a smile even though it was showing through his eyes.

"I think I love it. Thank you." She whispered sincerely, and the tension between them returned. Evelyn was subconsciously rubbing the smooth baby stubble hair at the back of her head. He could feel her warm breath on his face now. The space between them was becoming less and less, but Mitchell couldn't go any further.

He knew that making sort of commitment meant telling her _everything_ about himself, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that yet.

He took a step past her and knelt down on the floor, gathering the bunches of hair into a pile. She closed her eyes and silently took a deep breath. This was happening too often for her taste and it was toying with her mind now.

She pulled a piece of cloth material from her pocket and unraveled it; a bandana. It was designed with violet and rich blue floral patterns. She folded it before wrapping it on her head and tying it at her neck, watching in the mirror as it took the place of her bald head.

Mitchell stood up from the floor and looked over at her. "What's that for?"

She shrugged as she fiddled with it to stay in place. "I figured until I get used to the feeling of not having hair…"

Mitchell gave her 'the look'; he knew she was feeling ashamed though she wouldn't admit it. Again, a situation beyond her control. His hands found the tie at the base of her neck and he undid it, sliding the cloth from her head.

"You look fine. You're never going to get used to it if you keep hiding." What he really wanted to say was, _you look beautiful_. Somehow, the lack of hair brought out her large emerald green eyes as well as her freckled cheeks.

He put the scarf in her hands before making his way downstairs. She stood there in silence and watched him leave before running a hand over her naked scalp. Sometimes she thought he knew her better than she knew herself.

While Mitchell was pre-occupied downstairs, making what smelled like some sort of late lunch, Evelyn snuck into his room again. She quietly tiptoed to George's necklace, leaning in until she was nearly touching it with her nose.

There were traces of red embedded in the chain. The strangest part to her was that she'd been told George and his family had died in the electrical fire – so how did Mitchell come around to getting something like this if they had burned in the fire?

She couldn't ponder the thought too long as Mitchell called her down to eat. Something just wasn't adding up.

When she got downstairs in the kitchen, a grilled cheese sandwich was waiting for her at the table and Mitchell was sitting across from it. She gasped in delight and took a seat. Then she realized she didn't quite know what this delicacy was.

"What is it?" She asked curiously, parting the bread and looking to see what was in it. Just cheese.

Mitchell laughed at her. "It's called a grilled cheese sandwich. I used to work with an American lad who said it's a favorite quick meal from where he's from."

Evelyn nodded in approval after she took a bite. "It's not anything I would go bananas over if I were told it was just a grilled cheese sandwich. But I'll admit, it's tasty."

After lunch, Mitchell walked her home. She had her second treatment tomorrow, but this time it would be at the local hospital for one reason or another. She asked if he'd be able to make it, but he had something else in mind. It was something he'd been wanting to do since he had stepped foot in Evelyn's house the first time. Instead, he offered to walk her to and from as consolation. She accepted this as they said their goodbyes until tomorrow.

The following morning, after Mitchell walked Evelyn to the hospital bright and early at 7 A.M., he made a stop to a somewhat nearby hardware store. He was going to surprise Evelyn by painting her main room. She didn't have the time and possibly not the knowledge of doing it, so he would. Being surrounded by stark white walls all the time couldn't be healthy for anyone.

He noticed over the last couple months of knowing her that she tended to favor blues and purples; she often wore them in her clothing. They reminded him of a peacock, so those were the colors he chose.

He had a whole cart full of paints, brushes, primers, and any other necessary accessories he needed. The challenge was going to be to get this done before Evelyn finished treatment, but since her main room wasn't overwhelmingly large, he was confident about it.

He had so many supplies that he had to get a cab ride just a couple blocks down from Evelyn's house. He had made sure before they left this morning that he was the last to leave so he could keep her front door unlocked.

Once inside, he dropped all of this things by the door, arranged all the furniture (which wasn't much) to the center of the room, laid down a plastic cover over her floor, lined any trims with tape, prepared the paint, and got to work.

Like many of the flats around here, there were often weird wall angle and Evelyn's was no different. Two of the walls he painted an azure blue and the other two a byzantium violet. After an hour of it all drying, he applied another coat and after five hours, he had finished.

He cleaned up the mess and put the furniture in their original spots and making any modifications as less obvious as possible, with the exception of the new walls. He rested his hands on his hips and looked around, feeling quite proud of his work. Living with Annie for so long had many perks, and the knowledge of interior design was one of them.

Once he returned home and buried all the paint supplies in a closet, it was about time to pick Evelyn up.

When he got to the waiting room, he saw Evelyn curled up in one of the couches. He smiled crookedly and walked over to her, gently shaking her shoulder. He'd wondered how long she had been done for.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to her surroundings as Mitchell's face came into focus.

"How long was I sleeping for?" She asked, as if he'd been there the whole time. He helped her get to her feet.

"You tell me, I only just got here. It's nearly five." He said as they walked through the front doors of the hospital.

"I just got out ten minutes ago!" She said groggily, her eyes squinting in the day's light.

Mitchell chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It wasn't long before they were at her doorstep. He played it cool when they walked inside, the fresh smell of paint meeting their noses. He had cracked some windows to air out the place.

It took her a bit longer than he expected to notice the change. When she did, her keys fell to the floor, her mouth fell open, and she was frozen. Mitchell stood behind her with a tight-lipped smile spread across his face.

"Oh…my..._what_?!" She turned on her heel and looked up at Mitchell, poking him in his chest as she so often did. "_This_ is why you couldn't come today!"

Mitchell laughed a throaty laugh; his face resembling that of what Evelyn would dub a 'sneaky bastard'.

"_Thank_ you! Thank you, thank you." She wrapped her arms tightly around his rib cage and he paused for a second before wrapping his around her shoulders.

"You deserve it." He muttered, and after a few seconds he pulled away so he could open her windows further. The fumes were a bit overwhelming to him, but considering he had a heightened sense of smell, it was all the more sensitive to him.

"How did you know these were my favorite colors, anyway?" She asked with a tone of intrigue; as far as she remembered she had never told him.

Mitchell laughed a bit and nodded toward her clothes. Her pants were a deep blue and the scarf tied on her head was violet.

Evelyn grinned, shaking her head at him. "You're one of a kind if you can notice things like that. Guys can barely recall a girls' hair color even if they've been married twenty years." She was admittedly impressed. She was also quite exhausted; she wasn't sure why this round of chemo was so taxing on her, but she could barely feel any strength in her legs.

"Just make sure you keep your bedroom door shut so you're not breathing this stuff in all night." He stated, mentally noting that she was already lightheaded enough as it was.

With that in mind and seeing as it was nearly completely dark out, he decided he should probably let her get some rest. She walked him to the door.

"Thank you again, I mean it. If I could sleep in here tonight I would." She was smiling ear to ear. Mitchell returned this gesture and went back home.

-  
_Evelyn_

It was some time in the middle of the night that she heard it; thumping sounds coming from what seemed to be her roof and her walls. She was sitting up in bed, unsure if she was only paranoid or if she should check up on the house.

Looking at her alarm clock, it was 2 A.M. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone from her nightstand, cradling it close to her. She kept hearing the noises, but they weren't of any pattern such as a plumping problem. It was inconsistent and seemed to be becoming more frequent.

As she crept down the stairs one step at a time, she began to dial Mitchell's house number just in case. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and peeked around the corner of the wall down toward her main room.

The sounds were louder down here, but she couldn't pin point where the source was. Feeling her stomach twisting with anxiety, she pressed the 'call' button on the phone.

At almost that exact moment, something tight caught ahold of her ankle and the floor was swept out from beneath her. Her breath got caught in her throat and she dropped the phone as forehead smashed into the floor.

It was almost pitch black; she couldn't see what was happening. All she knew was that she was screaming at the top of her lungs a she was being dragged further from the phone and closer to the main room.

Her forehead was searing with pain, and when she tried to breathe properly was when she heard several voices in the room. The dragging was pulling up her t-shirt and the roughness of the flooring was burning her skin.

"_MITCHELL!"_ She begged as the phone disappeared from her sight. Finally the dragging stopped, but an icy cold hand was placed firmly over her mouth and her body was roughly flipped over onto her back.

The only thing she could see were the silhouettes of four people against her open windows. Her arms and legs were bound by their hands, pressed against the floor. Her chest heaved and heaved; it was becoming impossible to breathe properly with the hand blocking both her nose and mouth.

"_Hold_ still!" Hissed a woman's voice, which was followed by an excruciating pain left in Evelyn's shin where the woman stomped on to keep her quiet.

Evelyn's eyes were pouring tears now; the pain was unbearable. She felt the warm liquid from her forehead trickling near the corner of her eye now.

The people surrounding her were speaking in low voices, something about 'him' and 'us', words like 'clan' and 'recruit'…

Between the throbbing of the pain from different parts of her body, just feet away she heard Mitchell's voice coming through the phone speaker. Her eyes widened in heightened panic; she tried making any noise possible but nothing would work. She tried pounding her fist on the floor, but the man holding them down had an iron grip.

"Knock it off!" Bellowed the woman again, and next something clashed with her right rib cage. In the same moment, she managed to bite a finger of the hand covering her face. The man hollered and Evelyn screamed in agony; it felt like her ribs had cracked.

"_MITCHE-!_" She used her split second of free time to call for him, but now the man who she'd bitten placed one hand over his other and pressed down alarmingly hard on Evelyn's mouth.

She was beginning to lose a lot of blood now; she was becoming woozy and her attention was slipping. After her treatment earlier in the day and the fact that blood loss was worse for her, this was going downhill fast.

They were still talking amongst each other and she was starting to fade in and out. She could hardly hold onto their words.

There was a piercing, agonizing pain in her left arm now – she could see one of the silhouettes moving their arm with some sort of intentional pattern no her arms. There would be a line, a break, another line….as she was beginning to lose consciousness, she could still make out that they were carving something into her arm.

Her breathing was becoming shallower with each slice.

Before she could try to make one last effort at saving herself before she let herself die, there was a banging at her front door. She heard the familiar voice of Mitchell; this time it was one she'd never heard before. It was angry.

Her vision was becoming more and more fuzzy; shapes were blending together and giant blobs. In her throat she was calling Mitchell's name, but it wasn't audible.

The next thing she knew, all the weight that had been pinning her down was lifted. There was the sound of glass breaking somewhere. There was hollering, shouting, screaming, roaring, and the giant black blobs against her windows were moving at such high speeds it was making her dizzier. She couldn't move.

Her half-shut eyes followed the silhouette she recognized as Mitchell's, judging by the curly hair atop his head. But what was he doing? She could see four bodies going after him, several arms clawing at each other, and Mitchell looked as if he were pouncing on them.

She was fading; even the horrendous noises coming from just ten feet away were being extinguished from her ears.

Mitchell was in a full-on rage; he chased out the last vampire before doing a last check on the house to be sure they were all gone. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were as black as coal. Finally, he looked over at Evelyn's seemingly lifeless body and jumped over to her, falling to his knees. His eyes returned to normal, although the scent of an immense spill of blood was filling his nose quickly, threatening to turn him into a monster again.

"_Evelyn_…Evie, can you hear me?" He gently patted her face, unsure of where to touch due to all the damage that had been done. Panicking and panting, he slid his arms beneath her and picked her up before quickly leaving her house.

He ran as fast as he could without being noticed by any neighbors, keeping a wary eye out for any unwanted guests returning.

Barging through his still-open front door, he switched on a light an instantly inspected the damage he could see on Evelyn. She was unconscious.

"_Shit!_" He breathed; her face was stained with freshly-oozing blood, her clothes were patched with it in different area.

And on her arm was some sort of lettering that he couldn't make out due to the blood.

In any normal circumstance, he would have the ambulance here by now, but this was the furthest thing from normal. He couldn't very well tell them it was a vampire attack, and with all the injuries and the likelihood of them finding out Mitchell was the only friend she had here, he would very well be arrested on the spot for anything up to attempted murder.

He would have to handle this himself.

He frantically carried her up the stairs, his body sweating profusely. He was covered in all sorts of blood and debris, his hair in every which direction.

For the sake of Evelyn's life, he had to put aside any immodesty. He had to get her undressed in order to properly inspect her injuries and to clean them. He stepped into the bathroom and gently placed her in the bathtub, propping her upper body and head up against the back of the tub where there was a slope.

The blood was attributing to his mental struggle to keep calm. He kept Annie's words in his head about being able to fight any compulsion. He filled the tub with lukewarm water and began peeling away her soiled clothes. She was nearly fully nude, but because the old human part of him was a gentleman, he left her underwear on; it didn't seem she sustained any wounds there anyway.

Once the bath filled a halfway high, he switched the water off and grabbed a clean sponge from the corner, soaked it, and began squeezing the water over her skin to rinse the blood away.

He tried to do all of this as quick as possible as she had already lost a lot of blood. Instead, he gently used his arms to submerge her entire body in the water, the water reaching just below her ears. He rinsed away her forehead wound.

The blood was a murky red now; it looked like a murder scene. He began to dab at the open wounds with the sponge, and although she wasn't awake, he still was careful so as not to hurt her.

Once he was satisfied, he drained the water and used the shower head to rinse her properly from the blood-stained water residue. He carried her limp body onto the bathroom carpet as he lightly pat-dried her; again trying to be careful but he needed to get to bandage her up and put pressure on her wounds before she was gone.

Now that he had a better view of her arm, he felt his heart sink to the floor. Carved in sharp letters were the familiar words '_too late_'. Now he was aware this was indirectly a personal attack against him.

He didn't have time to think about that right now, however. He pressed his ear to Evelyn's chest; there was still a heartbeat, but it sounded slower than what he remembered to be normal. He pulled out a gauze roll and antibiotic gel from beneath the counter and applied all of these things everywhere there was an open wound.

Her rib cage and her shin were a deep shade of red with hints of purple forming. All he could do with those for now was to make sure no pressure was applied to those areas.

Again, he hoisted her into his arms, careful to distribute her weight evenly. He laid her down in his bed, grabbed some fresh clothes, and made an attempt to clothe her. Keeping his eyes averted, he slipped off her undergarments as they were sopping wet and replaced them with an oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts. It would have to do for now.

He brought up a blanket to her shoulders and sat in a chair in the corner of his room. His expression was that of fury as he kept his eyes on her still body for any sign of movement.

'_Too late_' – what did it mean? At first he had thought the incident in the alley was its own incident, but then he began to have nightmares about it, and now this happened. To him, they appeared to be mutually exclusive.

To him, this meant war.


	7. The Reveal

**Ch. 7 – The Reveal**

The sun had risen by now and was pouring itself against Mitchell's bedroom curtains. It was a rarity that they ever got sunlight here; he loved it except for how sensitive his eyes were to it.

He was still sitting stone cold in his bedroom chair. He reached his arm over and parted the curtains enough for light to spill in, but not enough for it to meet his eyes.

Evelyn had stirred a couple times during the night, and though it wasn't much, it reassured Mitchell that she had the energy to do so. He hadn't so much as lifted a leg since he sat down. His mood was brooding and the smell of blood in the air was nauseatingly appetizing.

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't kill again…but he nearly did last night, and he planned to in the future.

It seemed this unknown vampire group came here to send him a message, one that he still couldn't comprehend. Other than defending themselves last night, they barely put up a fight with him. In fact, they were almost reluctant to challenge him.

He had recognized the woman as the one he'd run into previously in the alley, the one who'd given him George's necklace. The other three he hadn't recognized; even in the darkness he could make out their faces.

He hadn't realized he was still in his filth-ridden clothes, but he hardly had the brain power to care.

Evelyn looked a quarter mummified: her head and arm were wrapped and there were patches of gauze applied to assorted wound areas.

Evelyn began to finally move, and this time it seemed as though she were waking up. He stood up, feeling his blood come back to life after sitting for six hours. He watched as her face contorted; he assumed she was recognizing every ounce of pain afflicting her body.

He crawled onto his side of the bed. She parted open her eyes, slowly taking in her surroundings. After a moment, she gingerly turned her head to see Mitchell staring down at her. The feeling in her body was returning to her; not only the injuries, but the binding of bandages.

She raised her hand to her head to confirm that there was something there, then looked down at her other arm that was wrapped and covering the morbid message. The bruising everywhere else was throbbing.

She inhaled, but her ribs protested. "What happened?" Her voice was barely audible.

Mitchell didn't think to come up with a believable story for when she woke up. He supposed he was worried she _wouldn't_ wake up. He figured there was a way to tell the story without the whole truth.

He cleared his throat. "Some people broke into your house last night…and did all of this to you." He motioned at her bandaged body. Only now she did notice she wasn't in her own clothes anymore.

Her eyes widened a little more and she looked into his eyes. "Is it bad?"

Mitchell nodded. "You're better now, but…it was pretty gruesome last night. To be honest, I didn't think you would make it." Honesty was the best policy in his book, unless it involved vampires.

She pondered this thought for a while. "No, I remember now…you were there. But…" She paused. Last night there had been something about Mitchell that as not so…Mitchell. She knew that she eventually lost consciousness, given her lack of memory after that, but she distinctly remembered seeing him do things she'd never imagined he could do. Even in the dark she was aware of this.

Mitchell didn't push the subject. In fact, he'd rather her not speculate on anything.

"You were…aggressive. And I'd never seen you move so fast, or…or want to hurt somebody so badly." She spoke softly. Mitchell's face didn't move.

"They probably would have _killed_ you, Evelyn. It was nothing more than self defense." He tried to sound encouraging, but if he was being honest with himself, it was getting tiring having to hide from everyone. Especially from Evelyn, who was generally a very open-minded woman. But she'd never experienced anything like him before, so how she'd react if she knew was still up in the air. His tone was hardly convincing.

Evelyn continued to stare, almost as if she were trying to find the truth deep inside his eyes. "Something's the matter. You're not even trying to defend yourself."

Mitchell groaned and sat back into his pillow, his head tilted up toward the ceiling. "I _told_ you already. It's what happens when you get an adrenaline rush; it was an emergency situation! I had to do what I had to do." Now he was getting defensive, though he wished he hadn't raised his voice. Evelyn was the victim of something she had nothing to do with.

She finally looked away from him. She didn't believe him and that was a first for her. He was lying to her. In part she knew was telling the truth, but he was hiding something. The bloodied necklace of his best friend, the events from last night….

Ex-con? Murderer? Psychopath?

He mumbled something about making breakfast as he left the room. She watched him go and slowly began to sit up, her limbs numb from lying in the same position all night.

The unwrapped the gauze on her left arm only to reveal a message that had been carved into it. She brought her free hand to her mouth and began panting. _Too late_? Who would break into her home to attack her and leave this on her arm? She had no known enemies in her life.

She slid out of bed and noticed her pile of clothes in the corner of the room, blushing a deep scarlet red as she felt lightheaded again. She trusted Mitchell enough to know he hadn't done anything imprudent, but the fact that he probably had seen all of her buck naked was a terrifying thought.

She shuffled into the bathroom to take a look at herself. She looked paler than normal, her bespeckled cheeks standing out over the white. She unwrapped the bandage on her head as the smell of eggs wafted upstairs, her stomach stirring. There was a moderately large gash on her forehead and swollen skin all around it.

Lifting her shirt, a bruise the size of a grown man's fist was forming, making it difficult to as much as yawn. Her shin was another story – she knew it wasn't broken, but whenever she put weight on it, it sure felt like it.

She tossed her dirty bandages in the garbage before limping her way downstairs. She wondered what her own house looked like after the night's events.

Before she reached the bottom landing, Mitchell was already scooping her up and settling her into a chair in the kitchen. She was unsure what to say, or if it was safe to bring up last night again. She couldn't help but wonder what Mitchell was hiding from her, or why she was so hellbent in thinking that he _was_ hiding something from her.

They ate in silence, and it was possibly the most uncomfortable experience they'd experienced together. Mitchell was staring at her arm with the words on it, anger refueling him. Without thinking, he slammed his fork into the table and it suck there.

Evelyn froze. She didn't want to admit it, but this sudden change in his behavior sort of frightened her. She wanted to thank him over and over again for saving her life, but as the minutes wore on, any thought of mentioning anything related to last night were becoming sour.

After a few minutes of more silence, he finally spoke. "I'm sorry." His voice was barely audible.

Evelyn shook her head at him in confusion. "Why are you apologizing? _I'm_ sorry…I don't know why I accused you of-"

"Because it's _true_." He enunciated every word as if she were hard of hearing.

She frowned, confused. "What is…?" She was hoping he wasn't going to respond back with 'murderer'.

Mitchell was apprehensive. Was this really how it was going to happen? He contemplated his options first.

_No, not yet_, he thought. He was going to tell her, that much he did know. If he was going to hunt those bloodsuckers down, he needed to tell her. He was sick of beating around the bush and constantly having to find ways around explaining things to Evelyn.

It was eating him alive. He kept his eyes focused on the fork embedded in his wooden table.

"I'll tell you later. Tonight." He murmured.

"But why not now?" Now she was anxious to know, especially if it had to be a specific time to tell her.

"You'll understand after I tell you." There was no way he would be able to contain himself with her fresh wounds out in the open right now. Plus, she'd had enough shock in the last few hours, he would at least give her some leeway.

He would have to be sure her wounds were covered; though it wouldn't completely mask the smell or the knowledge that the blood is there, it would help it being out of sight. For right now, it was probably good to let her wounds breathe before wrapping them again.

Evelyn only nodded in agreement, her eyes fixated on his face as she was trying to solve the puzzle that was his thoughts.

"You have to stay here for now, though. At least until we know it's safe again." The way he presented this declaration left no room for questioning. "I'll go get whatever you'll need that will last you."

Once she finished eating, she assisted Mitchell by writing him a relatively small list of essential things she'd need. Mainly, this included any clothes he could muster in one trip, toiletries, her medication, and her school books. He insisted she stay here.

_School…_, she only just remembered she missed her class today. There'd be no way she could show up looking as she did, especially for her drama course in which they often simulated fictional characters and had to be believable doing it. She would just be the highlight of the day for separate reasons.

Mitchell was there and back again in a jiffy. He had a large black bag stuffed with her belongings and brought them up into the spare bedroom just down the hall from him.

Evelyn stood from her chair, careful to lend her weight to her good leg. Just as she was about to step for the stairs, Mitchell came hurling down as if he'd planned this execution, picked her up, and brought her upstairs.

If her leg hadn't truly been excruciating with pain, she would've protested this. Mitchell sat her down on the bed in the spare bedroom.

"You stay put and I'll get everything." He left for the bathroom and when he returned, it was with an armful of what she assumed were the supplies he used on her last night.

Then Evelyn remembered something: the voices and the words she overheard before she had lost consciousness.

"Mitchell…" She spoke softly as he began doing his thing with the antibiotic cream. He looked up at her in acknowledgment.

"Before you got there last night…I heard them talking." Mitchell seemed to pause what he was doing when she said this.

"What were they talking about?" He couldn't imagine the things she may have heard. Often times there were vampires, unlike him, who purposefully spoke and acted indiscreetly.

"I couldn't tell you exactly, but I overheard them referring to a 'him', something about a 'recruit', 'clan'…those were the only ones that stood out. But then again, I was nearly dead." She said with a sarcastic charm, but rather than getting the look from Mitchell, he was voiceless. He seemed to be concentrating more than ever on tending to her wounds.

"Mitchell? Is any of that weird?" She held still as he sat up on his knees to work on her forehead now. He was within inches of her now and she watched as he put his best effort into helping her. She smiled internally; his face was a little twisted in determination.

"Maybe…I guess it depends on the context. But it could be…concerning." He moved to her arm lastly before bandaging each area.

She didn't question this; it was still a relatively touchy topic and she didn't want to push him.

"You saved my life, Mitchell." She whispered, staring idly at the wooden floor beneath her. She only just realized this was only a mattress on a floor and not so much a proper bed, but it'd work.

Mitchell started wrapping her forehead when he finally made eye contact with her for the first time in a while.

The tension resurfaced. He slowly fastened the bandage, but his eyes didn't break away from hers. Her breathing became shallow.

Mitchell leaned in, but went upwards and gently kissed her forehead where it wasn't injured. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent before the moment was cut off as he left the room.

Evelyn opened her eyes again, but now her body was numb with shock. She forced herself to start unpacking what little things she had now that this was her temporary living quarters.

Mitchell was in the stairway, resting his forehead against the wall with his eyes shut. He was getting better at controlling himself, but he had been holding his breath as long as he could while with Evelyn.

When he had gone to retrieve Evelyn's belongings, he didn't realize what sort of state her house would be left in. Here and there, there were splatters of blood from his doing. The floor where Evelyn had been was also stained, and several pieces of furniture had been damaged. He denounced that that house was doomed to be bad luck for anybody that lived there.

A few hours passed, and in that time Evelyn took pain medication, rested, and Mitchell showered and finally finished his laundry worth 3 weeks of clothes. While Evelyn slept, Mitchell made sure to linger around her bedroom so that when he'd be alone with her later, perhaps he wouldn't act out from withdrawal.

The sun was set and it was now night time. Evelyn was watching the telly in the main room as Mitchell cleaned his room, put away his clothes, and parted his curtains for a bit of moonlight.

If he was making a huge mistake, he would be finding out real soon. He looked around his room, making sure anything fragile was out of harm's way. Of course the point was to control himself, but that side of him was, unfortunately, unpredictable.

He also wasn't sure if the eerie display of moonlight was the right direction in revealing himself as a blood-drinking, destructive, potentially deadly being. But perhaps it would lessen the scare factor.

Mitchell tilted his head back and took a deep breath. He couldn't remember in his nearly 160 years of life the last time he had to do this. In fact, it's possible he never did. He either befriended others like him, 'played' with them, or killed innocents.

Evelyn hobbled her way upstairs; Mitchell said he would come get her when he was ready (which raised her suspicions as to what was going to happen or what she was going to find out), but she was getting impatient. Her imagination could only take her so far before she was treading in dangerous territory.

When she got to his partially closed door, she knocked gently. Mitchell greeted her at the door. The darkness of the room, and the fact that he wasn't changing that factor, was a bit ominous to her.

She couldn't help but burst out laughing out of the blue. "What are we doing, Mitchell? I feel like this is going to end up with me in a hostage situation and I'll wind up being your…sex slave or something."

Mitchell looked at her with the most befuddled expression, and for the first time in hours he lost it, doubling over in laughter.

"What sort of fantasies were _you_ having?!" He accused.

Well, at least that ruled out _that_ theory.

"That's just one of at least thirty six. I had a lot of time to think about it." She followed his lead into his bedroom where he closed the door.

"Well, I can promise you _none_ of them are what you're expecting. I don't have to hear them to know." He scooped her up and placed her on his bed, and he sat opposite her. The moonlight was beaming on his face.

"You have to close your eyes." He noted, folding his legs beneath him.

This time, she was giving him the look, but he only returned it more sternly. She sighed, ignoring the protest from her ribs, and did as she was told. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap.

"Just if you're going to tie me up, watch my leg-" She began, but she felt his finger on her lips to cut her off. She only smiled, but then forced herself a serious face.

His heart began racing, but it was out of anxiety and not that he was changing yet. He stared at her soft features, taking her in before he leaned in so close, he could nearly feel the heat radiating off of her pulse.

He closed his eyes and rested his stubbly cheek against her jawline, silently inhaling her scent. His breathing picked up, and though he couldn't see it, Evelyn was trying with difficulty not to giggle from his hair tickling her neck. Plus, she wanted nothing more than to see what exactly he was doing, but she promised earlier on she wouldn't look until he was ready.

Mitchell's hands were becoming clammy beneath the cloth covering his hands, his heart rate picking up, and a sensation of pure ravage was making an attempt to break his interior.

He pulled away a bit, and opened his eyes to reveal eyes as black as the shadows of the room. His fangs were bared, but covered by his lips. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly in agony; how strenuous it was to physically restrain himself from completely destroying either of their lives.

"_Look_," was about all he could muster for now. His hands were grasping the bed beneath him, his knuckles were white as snow, though they couldn't be seen. He tilted his face back up to normal, meeting Evelyn's curious eyes.

Evelyn flinched, unsure if it was an illusion of the darkness, or if she was seeing what she thought. At first her initial instinct was to make a joke to lighten the mood, but she was aware that he wasn't masking his genuine suffering.

She watched as his chest heaved as if he were out of breath, and when he licked his lips, the two pointed teeth gleamed in the light.

Evelyn had multiple thoughts all at once, one of them being doubt…but he hadn't left the bed since they sat, so she knew it wasn't some quirky Halloween costume.

This was Mitchell. John Mitchell, a…vampire.

Several memories came rushing back to her at once: his inability to linger, at times, in close quarters where blood was concerned; when she would sometimes catch him gazing at her with lust (for blood); the lack of reflection in the mirror; and lastly, why he couldn't properly explain certain details about last night's events to her.

And yet, none of this mattered to her in the way he would have expected it to.

She brought both of her hands to his face, gently cupping his face in her hands. This seemed to bring him near the edge of insanity, and while she knew she was testing her limits, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Even if he thought he could.

Mitchell closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. He was unnaturally cold to the touch – another observation she had made earlier on.

She leaned in even closer. By now, she could feel his fast-paced breath on her face. He was still human. She found that she was trembling a little now that she was within this close of proximity.

Evelyn closed her eyes and let her hand fall to his chest where there was barely a heart beat.

This was pure anguish for Mitchell; each one of her movements was causing him to stir internally. He began to fidget.

Evelyn parted open her eyes just slightly and looked up to meet his black ones. She ran her free hand through his thick curls, something she had been eager to do for a while now.

She was taking what she suspected to be baby steps. She certainly didn't want to turn him manic, but she also didn't know what 'buttons' to avoid. After all, this was the first vampire she'd ever met…to her knowledge.

Mitchell released his hands from the bed, which made Evelyn flinch. He held them out to his sides briefly before he allowed one to be placed on the small of her back. Evelyn shuddered at his touch.

She gently leaned her forehead against his, looking straight up into his blackened eyes. Given the danger this was supposed to be, she assumed this was at least a good start.

But she couldn't take the tension any longer; there had been too many episodes of that lately.

She tilted her head just slightly and closed her eyes, closing the gap between them as she softly kissed his cold lips.

This threw Mitchell into overdrive; his eyes pinched together and he took a deep breath, his hand's grip on her back tightening some.

Mitchell pressed his mouth against hers with more force, and now they were finally kissing. Something they had both been waiting for longer than either of them realized.

She wrapped her other arm around his neck, still making a subconscious effort to not pull the wrong trigger. Mitchell pushed her body down onto the bed with his, filling any space they had between them.

They could both feel that with every second, he was becoming more aggressive, but so far it hadn't crossed any boundaries that it shouldn't. Mitchell broke away from her mouth and quickly found him at her neck.

She kept her eyes closed; this would be the ultimate test. She trusted him, even if a small twinge in her stomach was telling her otherwise.

Mitchell's mouth lingered at the curvature of her neck in torment. Evelyn felt unsure about how long he was waiting to make his decision, so she made it for him.

She grabbed his head and rotated it back to face her, lifting her head slightly to kiss him again. Mitchell kissed her eagerly, wanting more, but knowing he couldn't.

Somehow, this embrace revamped his ambitiousness and, admittedly, his libido. He wrapped his arm around her back and brought her up with him, never parting his mouth. Evelyn carefully steered her injured leg away from potential clashing, but then he pinned her against the headboard. He was ravenous at this point.

His hands found the skin beneath her shirt as they crawled upward, giving her goosebumps. His lips found her neck, though he oly kissed along the curvature.

Evelyn's heart was racing faster than ever. Just as she felt Mitchell tugging at the waist of the boxer shorts of his she was still wearing, is when she knew the line was drawn.

She wanted this just as badly as he did, but she didn't feel like this was the right moment. Not like this when only one of them would remember it, and not when this was their first extreme bout of physical contact. She needed to be one hundred percent positive he could contain himself. Right now, she was ninety five percent sure.

"Mitchell…" She breathed, putting her hands on his chest and gently attempted prodding him away. He only paused, his hand starting to pull up her shirt.

"_John Mitchell!I_" Evelyn raised her voice just a notch, which seemed to work. Mitchell froze on the spot, but she couldn't tell if he was coming back to her or if he was angry.

Slowly, Mitchell's breathing reduced to a normal pace, his hands fell to his sides as he sat back on legs. She watched as his head hung a bit low. He seemed ashamed.

Evelyn slid closer to him and ran her hand through his hair, removing any of it that was shadowing his face. When he looked up at her again, his eyes had returned to normal.

Mitchell took her face in his hands and pulled her to him to give her a proper kiss, not one full of lust and hunger. She rested her hands on his shoulders and gingerly kissed him in return.

Mitchell couldn't describe the palpable delight that they had finally made the leap that they'd been wavering on for a time now. Not only that, but that he had made it through his greatest fear with both of them unscathed. He knew there were still many, many trials ahead of him and that if this continued, each time would be unique.

He pulled away and swiveled onto his back, bringing Evelyn down with him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Vampire was not on my list of suspicions." She muttered and she felt Mitchell's chest jump with a laugh.

Mitchell stared up at the dark ceiling. He would have a lot of tales to retell Evelyn once she let it sink in exactly what he was. The thought of ever speaking Herrick's name again would normally would his blood boil if he weren't so overcome by drowsiness.

Then there was the identifying of the clan who had confronted him in previous weeks and then barged their way into Evelyn's home. He assumed that somehow they had been keeping a keen eye on him; trying to solve the puzzle of what made him click.

They'd hit the nail on the head with each occurrence. He could re-locate again and take Evelyn with him, but there was no such thing as outwitting or outrunning a vampire, let alone when it was a group of them. What he needed to figure out was the mystery of why they seemed to be trying to get his attention, his interest, through ambiguous means.

Evelyn had a handful of questions for him, but she would save them for tomorrow. For now, they'd enjoy being able to fall asleep in the safety of each other's' arms.


	8. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

The following day, Evelyn was at school talking with her teachers about how she 'fell down the stairs carrying the dishes' and would need a few days to recover before she could come back.

While she was away, Mitchell was cleaning up her flat, scrubbing out any remaining blood stains. He would have to worry about any broken furniture later, but he didn't want Evelyn's landlord coming through here with it looking like a murder scene.

Mitchell was lucky in that he got away without paying rent – when he'd found his place, the landlord was boarding it up to never be used again. Something about it couldn't get him any tenants, so Mitchell sprung on the idea that he would take it. Since it was going to be patched up and abandoned anyway, his landlord let him stay for free.

As for last night, well…Mitchell still had his guard up. He felt he somehow got lucky that he didn't manage to tear Evelyn to shreds, because his bloodlust was preposterous. He was confident, however, that they could have a normal and healthy relationship so long as it wasn't while he was ravenous with thirst.

Back at home, Mitchell was putting his clothes away in his dresser (a rarity) when his eyes found George's necklace that was sitting on the surface. Mitchell frowned and picked it up, inspecting it closely.

Then it hit him. The message '_too late_', the necklace, the run-in in the alleyway, the break-in at Evelyn's. Why he hadn't put the pieces together earlier, he wasn't sure. They were all related. Mitchell's face twisted with anger.

These particular vampires were responsible for George's death. That explains how they were in possession of his necklace. The reason why they'd given it back to Mitchell was to serve as a reminder that he was _too late_ to save his best friend the night he and the family were ambushed, and set on fire.

They'd been keeping an eye on Mitchell since – for reasons he had yet to unscramble – until he emerged from his long period of 'hibernation' and got close to someone again.

Everyone he got close to he lost. Undeniably, they were planning to do much more damage to Evelyn than what they got away with. Given the words she picked up that night, they had a plan. Mitchell's goal was to figure that plan out. How he would go about achieving this, he didn't know yet.

As he was getting lost in his thoughts, he heard Evelyn walk in downstairs. He snapped out of it and descended the stairs to meet her.

"How did it go?" He asked, planting a kiss on her forehead. She was beginning to heal, although there was still quite a ways to go. The healing process seemed to be going a bit faster for her, even as a human, but Evelyn had a theory it was due to her chemo drugs.

Evelyn unraveled the scarf from her neck. "Well, they didn't know who I was at first. I completely forgot that the last time I was there I had hair on my head." She scrunched her face in an 'oops' expression.

Mitchell's mouth formed an 'o' shape. "But they believed you?" His voice raised into a squeaky, sarcastic tone. "Because you are a _terrible_ liar." He was smirking.

Evelyn whipped him with her scarf. "I'll have you know that you are _wrong_, because they believed every word."

He stared at her, eyebrows raised, his face reading that of complete denial.

She rolled her eyes, "says the guy who lied to me for _three months_ about his 'hobby'!"

"You're treading on dangerous territory." His face turned solid and unblinking as his voice deepened.

She wasn't buying it.

"I'll take my chances." She challenged, reflecting his expression back to him.

Mitchell took a step closer to her, not quite filling the space between them. He stared hard into his eyes, his eyes shadowed by his brows.

Evelyn bit her bottom lip to refrain from squawking at his attempt to frighten her. She shook her head at him.

He leaned down and rested his hands on her face before kissing her softly. She froze on the spot, returning this embrace, but he pulled away just slightly. This time, his face was honestly filled with concern.

"Don't _ever_ take any chances with me. Not when I'm like…how I can get." He murmured.

Evelyn still hadn't fully digested her recent discovery; she'd just accepted it temporarily until she had time to stew on it.

She nodded in response.

"You have to promise. If I _ever_ even _begin_ to get out of hand…even if it meant ki-"

"_Mitchell!_" Her voice was nearly a shout and it caught them both off guard. "I would never go that far, not ever! But I promise if there are any…any warning signs that it might get bad, I'll do what I can to stop it. Even if I have to remove myself from the situation…but that's as far as I'll go." She said sternly. This seemed to be enough for Mitchell, at least for now.

She had nearly forgotten what they were talking about prior to this conversation. "Oh, I explained everything to my instructors with my treatment and everything. I guess I've been reduced to a part part-time schedule. It basically means I can come in whenever my schedule allows." She sighed heavily, this was the exact opposite of what she wanted: to be pitied by everyone.

Mitchell's brows furrowed. "That's _ridiculous!_ You're paying them and…and this is a dream come true for you, now they decide to handicap you? I'll handle it." He made one swift movement toward the door but Evelyn put her hand to his chest to stop him.

"No! Please don't." She begged as he backed up. "It's probably for the better because I'm more susceptible to picking up other sicknesses and germs. It's not what I wanted or expected at all…but at least they are still letting me come in."

Plus, she was a bit scared to know what methods of threat Mitchell would use against the board of directors at the school.

Mitchell released an exhale through his mouth. "Fine, but if they do anything more ridiculous, I'll give them a piece of my mind."

Evelyn knew she was supposed to be taking him seriously, but she found is possibly oddly attractive _and_ adorable when he got flustered. He noticed this on her face.

"Are you teasing me?" His voice squeaked and his mouth formed a sideways smile. "You little shit!" In one swift movement he swept her legs from off the floor and carried her over to the couch. Evelyn nearly wet herself with laughter.

"Worst. Vampire. _Ever!"_ She teased as he lightly dropped her on the couch and hovered himself above her.

"You haven't seen anything yet." He was mostly teasing, but there was actually a whole _lot_ of truth to that sentiment.

He sat down beside her and rested her legs across his lap. Evelyn regained herself and then remembered all that they had yet to cover, mainly about Mitchell. Or really, all about Mitchell.

When she had asked him about his friends and how she assumed they weren't ordinary like her, he rehashed the real story of George, Nina and baby Eve.

"When Annie and I'd first heard about you moving here, into that house…it was just blatant surprise. The general public only knew a murder had taken place in there, and that was what everyone believed, obviously. But it was _them_, and after they'd done their business they made a sick attempt at burying their evidence."

As Mitchell spoke of this, Evelyn noticed the muscles in his jaw tightening in anguish. She sat up so that she could sit next to him and wrapped her arm around his chest as he continued.

Mitchell swallowed a knot in his throat. "It's been _nine fucking years_, and it still lives in my memory like it happened yesterday." He shook his head up at the ceiling.

Evelyn couldn't stand the sound of pure disenchantment coming from him. It broke her heart.

After he calmed himself down, he went on. "I remember I was coming home from work. It was Eve's first birthday and we were going to celebrate together. I was running late and Annie had been waiting for me before we went. But it was…I was…" His eyes glazed over. "Too late."

Evelyn listened intently and noticed he had stopped breathing. She tilted her head up to see that he was resisting the urge to sob, but that a few tears had leaked from his eyes. She felt her stomach drop as she cupped part of his cheek in her hand and rested her forehead against his temple.

He allowed himself to fully grieve now, his face twisted in absolute misery.

"I know what you're thinking…" Evelyn whispered. "But the only reason you feel that it's you to blame is because you never, truly got over it. And you're reading too deeply into what those other _things_ have ingrained in your head. I can see it in your face when you talk about them. Every time it's as if you're punishing yourself for even remembering they existed. I never met George, Nina or Eve…but I can already tell by your account that they were wonderful people. And that they, and _Annie_, would probably strangle you if they knew you thought such horrible thoughts."

By now Mitchell's trembling body was still again. He didn't know what to say, or how to react, but she struck a chord. She was absolutely right, he had never allowed himself to grieve properly. Between then and now, his time was spent distracting himself from the reality that two of his three closest and only friends, and their child, had been murdered. They were stolen from him in a matter of minutes. He continuously blamed himself for this just because he just happened to have worked a little overtime that particular night.

The unnamed vampire who had confronted him in the alleyway knew this and latched onto it, using it against him. He assumed that they wanted something in return for him, that he'd be vulnerable enough to give it to them, whatever it was. But he wasn't _that_ weak.

Evelyn softly kissed his wet cheek and then began patting at his face with her sleeve to dry it. Mitchell couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he probably looked, albeit feeling a bit better.

"Now, I have to ask about Annie. Because she sounds lovely and I wish she hadn't moved away so we could hang out together. _And_ have tea. I didn't forget that tidbit." She smiled at him and he returned this gesture. His eyes were swollen and red replaced the white of them.

"I hate to break this news to you…I do, really." He actually had forgotten a major detail about a future encounter between Annie and Evelyn. "But, you can't actually see Annie."

Evelyn thought about this, then frowned. "Does she have a disease? Does she secretly have really bad breath or…or wait, she can't possibly not visit you?"

Mitchell flung his head back onto the couch and bellowed loudly; he hadn't taken into account that not seeing Annie meant a whole other context to him than it would for Evelyn.

"_No,_ no. I mean, you can't _seeee_ her. She's a ghost." He rolled his head onto its side to watch her expression.

She was utterly shattered by this news and her body language showed it. "Thanks for bursting my enthusiastic little bubble."

Mitchell was smiling crookedly as he gingerly rubbed his hand among her shaven head.

"Wait, wait…so you're a vampire, Annie's a ghost, and George and his family…?" She had forgotten to even ask. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"Werewolves. That is, except for Eve. We'd never…_quite_ figured that one out now that I think about it. Just don't ask _how_ it happened, if you catch my drift." He chuckled at himself.

"I got ya loud and clear. But I have to admit I'm still gutted I can't meet Annie. What about…can I hear her at least?" Her voice rose in guarded optimism, but Mitchell only shook his head.

"Now I have to ask, when you…get thirsty, or however you phrase it, what do _you_ do about it? Because as far as I've noticed, you'd never shown up at my front door covered in blood. You do drink blood, right?" She was beginning to think she delved too far into the fictional monster stories she was used to.

Mitchell tried to choose his words carefully; would it be right to spill his guts about people he had murdered even if he hadn't done so for years now? He had nearly slipped up in the alleyway that one time, although she ended up not being human.

"To answer you last question, yes. And to answer the first…" He sighed. It wasn't exactly anything he was proud of admitting, but there it was. "Typically, there are two methods. A lot of the time they are not exclusive to each other. The first is…well, innocents. I know, it's not an ideal circumstance to be in, but trust me when I say holding back in a drought is possibly the most grueling feeling to _ever_ experience. It's even worse later when you've only just realized what you had done, but that's only if you've got a sympathetic bone in your body. Most don't."

Evelyn listened quietly, curling up beside him.

"And the second…" It wasn't often he was made to feel self-conscious, but the exception was now. "The second is something shared between two vampires where they help each other and then they're happy." His statement ran together to sound like one giant, jumbled word.

Evelyn sat up and stared at him in disbelief. He swallowed. "'You're such a _terrible _liar'!" She quoted his accusation to her from earlier, yanking on a piece of chest hair poking out from beneath his shirt. He rubbed his hand over the tingling area and wrapped his arms around Evelyn, squeezing her with as much force as he could without breaking her bones or irritating her bruised area.

"You're awful at revenge!" She croaked under his pressure before it loosened. "Tell me what actually happens. I know you're avoiding it; it's just making me more curious. You are officially an open book and you owe me all your secrets."

Mitchell gave her a look. "You really don't want to know, it was hard enough having to explain this to Annie back in the day."

Evelyn pinched more of his chest hair between her fingers threateningly and he quickly reflexed, smashing her hands with his so she couldn't move them. "_Alright_, alright." His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. "We basically have really intense and hardcore sex and feed off of each other. Is that better?" He sarcastically stared at her with an annoyed expression.

Evelyn sat in silence, or more in shock. "Oh." She blurted.

Mitchell exhaled a long sigh and sank into the couch. "It's like what I told Annie. It's not _just_ sex, it can never _just be _sex for me. Ever."

"What about last night?" She whispered, unsure if this was a territory she should explore.

But he had to admit, he was a little stumped. "That was different. It was luck. And in those circumstances luck is almost never on my side because that has never happened before, not while I was…monstrous."

"You're the farthest thing from a monster. And I don't think it was 'luck', call me ignorant to the situation but I believe you handled yourself just fine." She tried to persuade him, and she did mean it for the most part. Toward the end of the night she knew that if she hadn't tried to stop him, it may have gotten out of hand.

"You say that because you've only experienced it once. This-" He planted a kiss on her lips. "-is fine. But not while I'm ravenous. At least…not until I know I can handle it without destroying everything in my sight."

Evelyn wasn't sure what it was, maybe the soft expression painted over his face, the fact that he referred to a future of them together, or both…but it made her heart race and her cheeks flush.

"H-have you ever…loved anyone? All lust aside. Have you ever madly loved somebody?" She was wondering where the line would be drawn, if there was one.

Mitchell scrunched up his face. "Aaah, that's a tough one. I know that's a strange answer, but I think I thought I did, but it was a different kind of love. It was more platonic than I thought at the time. It was actually with Annie, so I suppose it's a good thing you can't see her or, you know…" He clawed the air as if he were a cat, clearly indicating that Evelyn and Annie would fight over him, though teasingly.

Evelyn noticed his hands were preoccupied and she took this opportunity to rip out a patch of hair from his chest again. He howled for a second before laughing and rubbing the sore area on his chest.

"If I have a bald patch there by tomorrow, I'll make you pay for it. I've spent all my long years growing it out." He couldn't hide his smile; he really was awful at revenge…at least against Evelyn.

Evelyn made a boastful face. "Nah, I'll just make a wig out of 'em."

"Have you?" Mitchell asked out of nowhere, forgetting they'd changed topics. "I mean have you ever been in love?" His face was a mere inch from her face and she could feel her respiration increasing again. His face was too attractive and beautiful for words.

"No." She put simply, then sucked in a breath of air. "But I think I might be soon." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

It took Mitchell a stretch of time to understand that she was referring to him, that she could love him. The thought of someone loving him in that way was daunting and foreign; it never existed in his lifetime. Everything was pure lust for him, or thirst, or both. When he was with Annie, they thought they were in love. But by the end of their romantic relationship, they had both realized it was just their deeply rooted friendship where they loved each other. Just not in the sense that Evelyn meant.

He stared at her for a long time, and each second she was regretting her words.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes lingering downward. "Just don't act on anything you might regret."

She knew that he was only trying to protect her at arm's length, but she refused to accept it. Even if they only ended up remaining friends just as he and Annie did, she wanted to always be in his life. He devoted so much of himself to her and she was only just a stranger to him then. There was no way she could just ever forget that or let it go like it meant nothing to her. It meant more than anything else in her life. She would be happy staying friends, but she would be happier if they could be more.


	9. Preposition

**Preposition**

"I have a preposition" Mitchell stated as he plopped himself down beside Evelyn on the couch, handing her a cup of tea. He couldn't quite make tea as Annie had when she were here, but then again that was basically her living.

Evelyn gratefully took the tea and looked up at him from her newspaper, a hobby she had picked up from Mitchell after living with him for about a week now. "And what may that be?"

Knowing Mitchell, said preposition could be anything, really.

"Move in with me...permanently." He said as if this were the simplest idea ever.

Evelyn gave him a double-take; she hadn't quite expected that, even if his ideas _were_ rather bizarre at times. "Oh...already? Aren't we going a bit...fast?"

Mitchell chuckled; he hadn't thought of it in that sense. "It's mainly out of concern for your safety. I mean not that I wouldn't want to spend time away from you, or that you'd be a terrible flatmate. I just don't trust that place anymore...there've been too many incidents and they are certainly not coincidental. I think it's cursed and I wouldn't doubt if the vampires came back, if only to get at me again."

She understood now, although this set off a thought she had completely forgotten about: they hadn't properly spoke about the night she was attacked. At least, not properly. They had just established _what_ attacked her.

"Also..." he continued, "_if_ you decided to do it, you also wouldn't have to worry about rent. I know your medical expenses are going to only go up from here, and school." He knew that she was struggling financially – although her parents had left her with a sum of money, it was already dwindling what with her enrollment in school and the few hospital visits she'd had already.

Evelyn pondered this thought for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had moved here to become independent and live a new life, and now she was having difficulty staying on her own two feet. "And what would I tell my landlord? I'm already contracted for at least a year in my flat."

Mitchell cocked his head at her and looked up at her through his lashes. "Do you really think I'm not convincing enough to get him to change his mind? I could get him to do it in a _heart_beat."

She playfully shoved his head back into a proper upright position and grinned. "If you really think it will work and if you think it's for the best, then I accept." Even though it was a bit contradictory to be moving away from the trouble of vampires by moving _in_ with one.

Mitchell smiled from ear to ear and pinched her cheek before standing on his feet. "Well then, we better get a move on so it's settled. We'll grab as much as your stuff as possible...but I have to warn you, there's still some...uh, damage left over from the one night. But I'll talk to your landlord about it."

She just nodded and threw on her coat, following him out the door. "My landlord lived just across the street actually. I don't think I really have much left to move out with, so it should be relatively fast."

She shivered as the cool autumn air swept over her scalp. She was feeling a bit whoozy today as she had an early morning treatment, with school following. She was getting more and more adapted to the drugs, but it was in baby steps.

They reached her flat, which she hadn't been in for quite a while now. She had barely gotten acquainted with it. She allowed them in and the first thing she noticed was the condition of her furniture, which took her by surprise. Since she had been nearly unconscious for most of that event, she had no idea what had gone on soon after Mitchell had rescued her.

She walked them down the hall and into her room where she began grabbing things here and there. Mitchell spotted a few picture frames on her vanity and leaned closer to have a look. A woman in her fourties was on Evelyn's right, and a man just a little older on her other side. He presumed these were her parents, and the resemblance to them was uncanny. Her mother's face was littered with freckles and the very same heart-shaped face, while she clearly had her father's vibrant, clear emerald eyes. Mitchell drew a sad smile.

"Were you close to them? Your parents?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned the other photos.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder as she draped some clothes over her arm, and smiled. "I was. I didn't have any siblings so it was always just me and them, and they spoiled me to death."

Mitchell straightened his back and carefully collected the pictures for her. "And you said they were in a drunk driving incident?" He asked softly. He wasn't entirely certain how touchy the subject was for her as they barely spoke of it after they first met.

"That's what I was told, but..." She paused in the middle of folding some clothes, her eyes becoming unfocused.

Mitchell's brows knitted together and he shook his head, "We don't have to talk about it, I shouldn't have brought it up..."

Evelyn snapped out of her daze and looked over at him almost bewildered. "Oh, no! It's fine, really. I guess I just haven't actually been able to talk about it since it happened. But yes, that's what happened. Apparently it was so gruesome for my dad that that's why it had to be closed casket at his funeral. My mam was beaten up, but nothing to the extent of my dad."

Mitchell was now perched on the end of her bed, and Evelyn was staring idly at her hands below her.

Mitchell watched her intently, his brows shaped in sympathy for her. "How was she after it all?"

Evelyn continued to fold what clothes she had left as she spoke. "She was terrible. I still haven't quite put my finger on why she had been so...broken after it happened. I mean, she couldn't speak anymore, even up until she passed. She would constantly have these crazy and horrifying outbursts at home and she had to be taken to the ward several times a week, even when she seemed normal. When she had them it was as if she were having a stroke and she would try so hard to get my attention as if she were dying, and the first few times I thought she really was. But the doctors told me it was just a severe case of post-traumatic stress. The fear in her face was indescribable, almost like she were losing my dad all over again."

Evelyn didn't notice a few tears had leaked from her eyes until she finished speaking. Mitchell felt helpless as he reached his hand over to grasp hers. He understood that she had a tough life, although despite it she was still one of the strongest people he had ever met. He could think of several people he'd met in his long lifetime who wouldn't have jumped the hurdles she had, and she still had many years to go. He knew that she was her mother's sole caregiver while balancing school, and she had put off her university dreams to care for her until she passed.

"She would have adored you, ya know." She grinned while she wiped away the wet from her cheeks with her free hand. "And my dad probably would have been intimidated by your looks. He probably would have assumed you were part of a motorcycle gang."

Mitchell gave a small laugh, looking at her. "I'm sure I would have brought on the charm, naturally." They laughed and he gently pulled her over to stand in front of him.

She was a mere five inches from his face and she couldn't help but break into a cheeky grin, staring down at him. Although he was sitting, she was still barely taller than him while standing. "You are quite the charmer, I'll give you that."

Mitchell's face slowly receded into a placid expression as his eyes flickered between Evelyn's eyes and her lips. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them and softly met her lips with his. Evelyn's brows raised in mild surprise and her heart had nearly burst from her chest. Her dizziness returned, but this time it wasn't due to the chemo drugs.

Aside from the night Mitchell had brought out his other alias as a vampire, and became quite...well, monstrous, they hadn't had any proper romantic involvement. Little did Evelyn know that that night had been quite mild for Mitchell, which he would constantly remind her.

She leaned into his mouth and loosely rested her arms around his neck while his hands laid on her waist. Mitchell could feel his adrenaline rushing through his body and his breathing accelerated, but this time it was a human reaction and one he knew he could keep under control so long as he kept concentrated.

After a moment or two, Mitchell pulled away just a couple centimeters, his voice in a whisper, "shall we get goin' then?"

Evelyn sighed comfortably whilst nodding, breaking their grasp on one another as she gathered all her belongings into one pile. Mitchell found a good sized luggage bag and assisted her in packing it.

"How about you take this all back to my place and I'll have a chat with the landlord." He suggested and when she nodded, he planted a kiss on her cheek before exiting the house.

Evelyn smiled after him, her cheek feeling slightly tingly. She wasn't sure where things were going between them or if it were proper that she was moving in with him just as things seemed to be getting started romantically, but when it came down to risking her life living alone or possibly making a giant, hurried leap in their relationship...she would much prefer the latter. Besides, it wasn't as if she were moving in solely for the purpose of encouraging any romance. It was just a package deal.

By the time Evelyn had said an appropriate goodbye to her short-lived residence, especially the main room that Mitchell had painted for her, Mitchell had already returned from her landlord's office as she was descending the porch.

"Did it go well?" She asked hopefully, unsure of what tactics he had under his sleeve in convincing her landlord to break contract just a couple months in.

Mitchell smirked and nodded his head. "Oh, I'd say it went just grandly. All I had to do was threaten him with the possibility of the responsibility of your future, inevitable death due to electrical technicalities." He burst out laughing at her befuddled expression, but when he didn't take back what he said, she knew he wasn't yanking her chain.

"You're not even joking!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "But of all the things you could have said, why that one?"

Mitchell shrugged, his brows raised. "He wouldn't budge when I was being truthful, so...I knew he had been George's landlord way back when and was aware of the 'electrical fire' that killed him. Honestly, you would think he would have jumped at the chance to affirm that they'd taken care of that. Even though that wasn't the real cause."

Evelyn had to laugh; she certainly was right in that Mitchell had a wild imagination at times, and one that somehow aided him when he needed it most.

When they arrived at Mitchell's and Evelyn had unpacked her small portion of belongings in the spare bedroom, Mitchell had missed a call from Annie which he was now returning. Evelyn still wanted the chance to meet Annie, as she was such an integral piece to Mitchell's life. She didn't know if she could actually see her.

Evelyn lingered upstairs give Mitchell privacy on the telephone, and while she did so she began tidying up Mitchell's bedroom. He was notorious for bombarding his floor with his dirty clothes, so she decided she'd fix this for him. It was a miracle the floor could actually be seen beneath it all sometimes.

Mitchell had just hung up the phone as he leapt his way up the stairs only to find his bedroom in mint condition. He stood there baffled for a minute before Evelyn crept up behind him and lightly jabbed him in the ribs.

"Oh, Jesus, you gave me a fright. What's all this?" He nodded at his bedroom.

Evelyn shrugged lazily. "I've noticed laundry isn't your strong suit, so since you're allowing me a place to stay, I can take over that role."

Mitchell gave her a look that read 'don't be ridiculous'. "I like it messy; think of it more as an organized mess." He said as if he were in deep concentration by this notion. "You just worry about you; I'm a man now." He said with a tone of playful sarcasm.

"_Sometimes_." She jokingly retorted, which then owed her Mitchell scooping her up and gently dropping her on his bed. He puffed his chest out in an exaggerated manner and put on on determined face, his arms held out at his sides.

Evelyn burst into fits of giggles as he melodramatically presumed his most manly appearance.

"Who's a man now?" His voice dropped into a mockingly sinister tone.

Evelyn couldn't even breathe properly let alone answer him. Instead, she brought her feet up, placed them against Mitchell's abs, and began pushing him away.

Mitchell bit his lip and was barely moved even slightly. He broke character and howled out loud at her sad attempt to deter him. "You are _terrible_ at this! Is this really your self defense? We need to work on that."

She was laughing so hard now her eyes were crying and her stomach was in knots. Mitchell removed her feet and crawled onto the bed, hovering above her while they laughed at her patheticness.

Once she recomposed herself, she looked at him. "That's why I have you."

"You don't want to have me for _that_. _That_ is not something...pleasant." He stated, and although he felt like he turned the mood stale, he meant it. He didn't want to deter her completely, he just wanted her to always be aware that he _could_ be dangerous. It was inconsistent but could happen at any time.

Evelyn subconsciously played with his thick mass of curls on his head. "Why did they come after me anyway? It wasn't as if I'd made myself notorious, or even a threat." She asked, keeping her voice low.

Mitchell hesitated, but this was a topic bound to be brought to life again and she deserved to know now that she knew him as the real him. "It was an indirect attack on me. They'd clearly been watching me for some time and were looking for anything they could use to get my attention. It worked. But that wasn't the first encounter."

He'd forgotten about mentioning the day he had been confronted by the woman vampire in the alley shortly before they'd raided Evelyn's home.

She kept her eyes focused on his hair. "How do you mean?"

"That woman vampire...I assume she's essentially the operator of that whole group. Well anyhow, not long before they had found you she found me around town. I was...I wasn't in the right frame of mind and didn't know what was going on." He swallowed; he would leave out the details of what he thought was going to happen in that alleyway, and he knew Evelyn could at least fill in the blanks as to what he was referring to. "But, she was responsible for returning George's necklace to me...responsible for his death. I hadn't even connected the dots until after they had broken into your house."

He could feel his blood beginning to boil, and Evelyn could see the anger rising in his face and the tremble of his body. He was staring up a the walls ahead of him blankly, clenching his jaw. Evelyn guided her hands to his face. While she mostly trusted Mitchell, even when he was in his vampiric form, there was a small part of her that knew he was potentially dangerous. Maybe it was he that hammered this into her head that caused her to believe it, but until something happened, she wouldn't treat him any different.

Mitchell forced himself to calm down and shifted his body to lye beside Evelyn. She decided that this answer was good enough and that before Mitchell could burst into angry flames, she should change the topic.

"How is Annie?" She asked, turning onto her side to face him. She winced as she accidentally put pressure on her injured arm – she was healing normally, faster than usual even, but there was still pain.

Mitchell switched thoughts and began to recall his conversation with Annie. His mood went from livid to exuberant in a flash. His brows raised excitedly and he turned his head to look at her.

"They've set their wedding date for December and they want us to be there! In fact, they've already bought our airfare." He said joyously. "I don't think I've ever heard Annie so happy. I mean before it was a balance of happy-go-lucky and then she'd be so down on herself the next week."

Evelyn grinned at this, though she did have a question that needed answering. "Is Annie...visible to me?"

Mitchell chuckled a bit. "Uuh, she should be, yeah. It depends on her mood, but I'd say she's quite jubilant at the moment. If she were, ya know...severely depressed, then you probably wouldn't be able to see her."

"Okay, good...because how weird would it be to be staring through two people who I was supposed to be celebrating?" She laughed at the thought of her clapping and cheering for the shrubbery behind the invisible Annie and Cedric.

"Well, there's three months for her to decide she hates Cedric and then I take back my words." He joked with a sly grin. He had only just now noticed how late it was and Evelyn had to be up early for school in the morning.

"I think it's time for a certain someone to get some shuteye." He sat up and brought Evelyn with him. She stuck her tongue out in mock disgust.

"I've only one class tomorrow which means you get to spend the rest of the day with little ol' _me_." She smiled as she stood.

"Oh, damn. How ever will I cope?" Mitchell asked in a mock Romeo-esque way. He walked her to the threshold of the door and swiftly turned her around so he could plant a proper kiss on her.

"Goodnight." He muttered, loosening his grip on her arm.

"'Night." She whispered before heading to the bathroom to prepare for sleep.

Mitchell quietly closed his door and sat back in his head, staring up at the moon-lit ceiling. It was going to be difficult to have certain wants and needs that he had to retain when Evelyn was just the next room over, and now so permanently. But he would stick to his principles and contain himself as much as part of him wanted nothing to do with those principles. They needed to pace themselves; more like he needed to pace himself so that whatever happened next, he was prepared for.

He waited until he heard Evelyn's bedroom door shut for confirmation that she'd gone to bed before he closed his eyes and felt sleep come immediately over him.


	10. Threats

**Threats**

"Evelyn O'Gorman, ten o'clock."

It was now the weekend and another day for another treatment. Mitchell had insisted on tagging along this time; the last handful of appointments Evelyn had explained to him that she'd rather go alone because it was just a couple hours of her being injected with drugs and trying to make the best of it. Not only that, but the environment was one filled to the brim with the smell of blood. It would likely send Mitchell into overdrive, or so she feared.

But Mitchell convinced her this morning to allow him a chance. It was a constant battle, blood lust. If he deprived himself of being anywhere near a trace of it, it could potentially drive him mad, but it was the same if he were flooded in its presence. It was a never-ending battle.

After Evelyn was all checked in, Mitchell followed her up the elevator and through the double doors that led to her treatment room. This particular room looked like any other hospital room: bland, and full of intimidating equipment, but the walls were of a light mocha color which gave the atmosphere a more comforting feel. It was a fairly decent-sized room though so it didn't feel quite as stagnant as most hospitals.

In the middle of the farthest wall was a bed with its back propped up at an angle. Daylight was spilling through the windows to their left and beside the bed, where Evelyn was now making herself comfortable.

Mitchell continued to observe the room and its contents as a hefty woman, whom he presumed was Evelyn's nurse, walked in with a gentle smile on her thin lips. He stood off to the side, watching as the nurse reviewed 'the usual' schedule with Evelyn. The nurse exited briefly as she instructed Evelyn to fit herself in a hospital gown.

He didn't need to be told to avert his eyes; he turned his back to give her privacy and stared out the window at the landscape below. They had to be a hundred feet up in the air at least. In the midst of his distraction he heard his name being called. He turned his head just enough so that he could hear what Evelyn needed without having to look.

"I'm decent, but could you tie me up?" She asked, cinching together the back of the gown to cover her bum and avoid any other mishaps.

Mitchell gulped silently as he nodded and approached her from behind, first tying the gown loosely around the back of her neck and then trailing his hands down to her waist. Although he was doing his best in keeping his eyes focused on what he was doing, he couldn't help but notice a scar a few inches long just below the middle of her back. He frowned slightly, assuming that this was the location of her tumor and where they had performed the biopsy. He snapped himself back into concentration and finished the final tie.

He could feel the warmth of her body radiating off of her skin and the overwhelming sensation of the smell of her blood running below it. He had the utmost desire to completely rip off the gown from her, but before he could explore this inclination any further, she crawled into the bed just as the nurse walked back in. The nurse shot Mitchell a scathing look, as if she had just read his thoughts. He shot a look back at her, but had to remind himself where he was and who he was here for.

Mitchell sat in a single leather chair beside the bed, watching intently as Evelyn sat back into the bed while the nurse pulled down the fabric of her gown to reveal a plastic port embedded in her chest. He hadn't any idea that she had this; he'd assumed she was receiving her treatment through another method. He sat up a little in his chair as the nurse slowly but surely inserted the needle into the catheter.

Evelyn's face twisted while the needle was being inserted and Mitchell leaned forward in his chair and took hold of one of her hands. It only lasted a few seconds before the nurse fiddled with some switches and buttons on a machine and left the room again.

Evelyn's face relaxed now as she opened her eyes again. Mitchell stared idly at the tube connecting itself from her chest below her collar bone to the giant machine just a few feet from her. It just didn't look natural.

"Now we wait." She said, turning her head so she could see him. She followed his eyes to the port implanted under her skin. "Oh, this is normal. It could have been in my arm but it would have gotten in the way." She reassuringly squeezed his hand.

Mitchell flashed a smile at her. "It looks mighty painful."

She shrugged. "Only with the insertion. For the first couple days after they implanted it, it was quite sensitive." She sighed; the multitude of drugs transmitting throughout her body were already tiring her. Her eyes felt heavy.

Mitchell made a mental note of this and subconsciously rubbed her hand with his thumb. "Now we wait?" He had a sympathetic smile on his face; although the process of chemotherapy was at times harsh on her body, it was a wonderful trade-off to eventually be rid of her cancer.

She smiled just slightly and nodded, "now we wait."

Mitchell brought his chair up as close as he could to the bed and placed his other hand on Evelyn's hand and rested his chin on them. He hadn't meant for it, but soon he was overcome by drowsiness.

–

Mitchell didn't know how much time had passed, but he parted his eyes just slightly at the sound of movement about him. He could feel somebody's hand caressing his hair and the sound of equipment being tampered with. He slowly raised his head, his eyes still adjusting to the light of the room. The nurse from before was unplugging Evelyn from the various machines.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep, did I miss anything?" He asked groggily; again, another nasty look from the nurse. He was beginning to think she had it out for him simply because he was a man and was probably in her way. But he really didn't care.

Evelyn sat up further in her bed once she was free of all the tubes. "I wouldn't know, I passed out myself." She snickered, and this time the nurse threw her a dirty look. If Mitchell was in a more convenient environment, he would call her out on this.

As soon as Evelyn was dressed and checked out, she and Mitchell went for some coffee to pass the time while Evelyn's dizziness subsided. They sat in a small booth across from one another.

Mitchell had only then noticed, out of his peripheral vision, that there were a couple vampires sitting at the opposite end of the room from them and their eyes kept flicking in their direction. Mitchell had been waiting for the right moment to speak to Evelyn about his plans with the vampire group who they'd both encountered, and now he would need to keep his voice as low as possible.

He cradled the hot mug of delicious black coffee below him with his gloved hands and leaned forward. "Don't make any eye contact with those other people in here." He muttered, hoping she wouldn't have an instinctive reaction to look where said people were.

Evelyn's eyes widened just slightly, trying to keep her expression natural as if it were normal to be sitting in a cafe in the company of vampires.

"Are they...?" She made a slight gesture with her head and he nodded.

"Not only that..." he began. "I'm pretty sure they're affiliated with those _ones_. Which I wanted to talk to you about, but I might have to hold that thought for another time." His mouth was barely moving when he spoke. "Honestly, I don't know why they're exposing themselves in such a public area. I swear year by year they become much more bold, taking more risks."

Evelyn sipped her piping hot drink, wanting so much just to get a glimpse at them because she could feel their eyes burning through her skull. But instead, she focused on Mitchell. "What do you think they want?" She whispered, unknowing as to what sort of hearing abilities vampires had now that she thought about it.

Mitchell placed his hand on the table behind his mug so that only they could see, and gestured to her and himself. "But mainly me. They just know where I'm vulnerable. Even if they just heard me say that, there's no point in denying it...they've known for too long now."

Evelyn swallowed the small knot in her throat. Although she wasn't exactly threatened by Mitchell, it felt like a whole other anxiety being in the presence of extremely, highly dangerous predators. She assumed that if they were in any immediate danger, Mitchell would have had them leave by now, so she just tried to play it cool.

Just as Mitchell opened his mouth to talk, the two vampire men approached their table. Mitchell's body stiffened, and Evelyn slowly pulled her carved arm away and tucked it beneath the table.

Mitchell looked up at them beneath slightly furrowed brows. They were staring at the both of them with smug grins plastered on their faces.

"What do you want?" Mitchell asked with enough authority to give them the hint they weren't welcome in their company. Evelyn kept her eyes on her drink; suddenly the aroma didn't smell so sweet. Rather, she was feeling particularly nauseated. The man standing closest to her was staring daggers into her face, but she refused to make eye contact.

"Oh, now let's not jump to nasty conclusions, Mitchell!" The man grinned, exposing his unnaturally pointy teeth and howled. The next second, his face turned stone cold and he slammed his hand down on the table inches away from Mitchell's hand. Mitchell watched this unflinchingly, clenching his jaw so tightly the muscles at his jawbone protruded. If he weren't with Evelyn, or had this been even a year earlier...his reaction might have been much more severe. The man, who had straight and slicked back black hair, leaned in so close to Mitchell, he could feel the cold radiating from the man's skin.

"A war is brewin'." The man breathed scathingly; his mouth was struggling between an arrogant grin and a grimace. His breath smelled of mint and seafood, as if he'd tried disguising it from his previous meal. "And you're teetering on the edge of friend and foe. Oh, but you still have time to make the _right_ decision." As he said this, his head slowly cocked toward Evelyn, who felt her stomach drop as she'd been watching this interaction. Now she was staring dead into this man's cold eyes. Mitchell's hands were nothing but barely-trembling fists now. He was doing all he could not to turn right then and there and be rid of this filth.

The second vampire had an elongated face and a pointy chin, which only lengthened further when he grinned the way he was now. His eyes hadn't peeled from Evelyn since he'd spotted her, and Mitchell certainly noticed this.

"My dear..." began the first vampire, directing this at Evelyn. "You best run while you've still got the chance. You have _no_ idea who you're associating yourself with." If possible, his grin extended even wider and the creases at his eyes became ever more apparent. Evelyn glanced at his tainted yellow teeth before her eyes found Mitchell's.

The man straightened himself once more, gave Mitchell a pat on the shoulder, and summoned his partner as they left the cafe. Mitchell exhaled a long breath, closing his eyes as he did so. Evelyn kept silent, if only to allow Mitchell to regain himself. In any other circumstance, Mitchell would have defended himself. He wasn't the type to sit back and be harassed, but the things he wanted to do to those men not only would have frightened Evelyn half to death and gotten him arrested, but he could have killed anyone in his path. The way he spoke to Mitchell as if he were a defenseless, wounded dog and the other man who stared at Evelyn as if she were something edible...

"Do you know them?" Evelyn whispered, breaking Mitchell's trance.

"Only acquaintances. It's been years since I'd last heard from them; I figured they would've gotten themselves killed by now." He said bluntly, unable to free himself from the thought that he was being watched and stalked more than he thought.

"What was it that you wanted to tell me before they interrupted?" She asked apprehensively, subconsciously sipping on her now room-temperature coffee.

Mitchell opened his mouth to speak, but wavered. How could alternately explain to her how badly he wanted nothing less than to rip off the heads of these vampires and leave their bodies to rot?

"I'm going to put an end to this. I don't know when or...how, even. I still have to think things through and come up with a game plan." He stared blankly at the wooden table below him. He was almost afraid to look Evelyn in the eyes. As much as he wanted to protect her from his ravenous, monstrous side, nothing was going to stop him from intervening with this specific vampire clan. The problem was he would be in it alone.

Evelyn only stared at him, unsure of what to say. She was pretty sure she understood what he meant by 'ending this', but at the same time she didn't _want_ to. "But...why are they doing this? And more than that, why are they taking their time?"

Mitchell shook his head, his eyebrows slightly raised. "They want me back. It's always been about that; ever since I went clean. They like the thrill of the chase. It's a slow burn, essentially..."

"But if you go after them, isn't that giving them what they want? You can't do it! They want to make a monster of you." But what did she know of it? Not nearly as much as Mitchell. She just didn't want to see him led into that lifestyle again, mostly for his safety but also because she knew she would lose him and then she'd have nobody. Selfish as that may be, that's how she felt, but she didn't intend to let Mitchell in on those feelings.

Mitchell's face screwed up a bit in distress. "You don't understand, this is almost becoming tradition. I go clean, I hold them off, then there's a new leader and they come looking for recruits. Even if that means innocent people. It's a vicious cycle and as long as I live, and _they_ live, it's never-ending." He finally met her eyes, his face full of hope that would try to understand.

Evelyn had nothing to say. She just knew that her time with Mitchell now went from endless to limited. He would become a danger to her if he came out of his pursuit alive, because he would undoubtedly be uncontrollable by that point. She never wanted to witness that side of him so long as she could avoid it, though she understood it may be inevitable.

Mitchell sighed and leaned back in his seat. "We should probably go before it gets dark."

Without any exchange of words, they made their way home.

–

It was a bit of an awkward car ride, which was a first for either of them. Generally, they were quite comfortable in each others' presence, but now there seemed to be a stale feeling in the air.

After a few hours of separation, Mitchell couldn't take it any longer. He made his way to Evelyn's room where she'd hidden herself since they returned. Her door was just cracked open, but he knocked anyhow. At the sound of her summoning him to come in, he did so and saw she was buried beneath a heap of blankets over her head, reading a book of some sort. He walked over and perched himself on the edge of her bed, hanging his head some. She set her school book aside and leaned against the wall behind her.

"I know this – everything – is a lot to take in. And it's probably still unbelievable to you and it's hard to digest what's going on. Sometimes it's still that way even for me." He began fiddling with his thumbs as she listened intently. "But for me it's inescapable. I explained this to George once; there _is_ no day off for me. It's a constant battle _every_ single second of _every_ single day, even when I seem to be doing perfectly fine. That can change at the snap of a finger. I'm going to have good days and I'm going to relapse here and there...it's just how the cards play for me. I still have a hard time accepting that, but it's been so long now that I've sort of become...comfortable with it. Yet it's so unbearable at the same time. So many times I've said I would never forgive myself for things I've done, and to this day I still feel that way. Maybe I just don't know when to give up or give in, and I should just let somebody take my head. I don't really know what keeps me from that, to be honest. I know I've earned death a hundred times over." He drew in a deep inhale and looked over his shoulder at Evelyn.

"What I'm trying to get at is, if you have any doubts about us, whether it's just our friendship or...or something more, don't think I won't understand if you ever choose to leave. Even at a moment's notice, you could walk out at any time and I would never hold that against you. I know what I'm like and you only know half of me; the better half. I just need you to understand hat no matter your decision, you _have_ to take into account that I'm a ticking time bomb and it's not just a one-time incident. I don't necessarily _want_ you to go, I don't wish that...in fact if I were human I would fight to keep you here. But if it's between having a proper, happy life and risking that life just to keep me company, then you would be better off." By now his eyes had returned down at his hands. As much as he truly believed in her moving on and getting away from him, deep down internally he hoped she would stay. It was a selfish wish but he couldn't lie to himself that he wouldn't be utterly miserable without any company, especially her. He would constantly worry about her condition or if she would go on to make friends, meet a nice man at school and start a family.

Evelyn's heart was beating a bit faster; indeed this was a lot to take in and it was quite unexpected. True, she was still digesting this whole supernatural world she'd only just been dunked into head first. But it wasn't quite as difficult to accept than she thought, or maybe she just hadn't truly taken the time to sit down and really _think_ about it. Mitchell could about hear her heart accelerating and her blood pumping faster, serving as a reminder to himself just how fragile he could be.

"I do understand. Maybe not as much as I think I do...but I've already acknowledged what I might be bringing myself into." She began, her voice calm and just above a whisper. "The thing is that I feel it's worth the risk to stay. I promise though, as I did before, that if I felt I was in some serious risk, I would do what I needed to to remove myself from that risk. I don't think, however, you give yourself enough credit for how wonderful you are as a person. Who cares _what_ you are; you could be a venus fly trap for all I care, but you'd still be the most compassionate venus fly trap I'd ever met, even if you do eat all those innocent flies." She knew it was a fairly poor analogy to vampirism, but nonetheless it made Mitchell smile. "It would be different if you were just human and, say, a serial killer. You can actually get help for that. But vampires? That's not even taboo, it just doesn't _exist_ in my world; in what was your world.

I will never fully understand what it's like being in your position. And I believe you when you, and those vampires, say you've made poor choices in the past. The difference is, not only is it an uncontrollable complication, it's not something you can just check yourself into rehab for. There is no help for your kind of people. I get that; my father was an alcoholic for years until I turned ten. I know it's different but it's also similar; the struggle and the constant guilt that eats at you when you explore that addiction again. And all you want to do is just be free of that sickness and live freely and never worry about it again." She hadn't quite expected to make such a speech, but it moved Mitchell to no end. All he wanted from everyone is his life was to understand, not just what he was, but what he could be. He wanted them to take him seriously when he needed to keep them at an arms length.

Mitchell actually felt the threat of tears, but he refused to cry. Instead, he pushed himself backwards closer to Evelyn, who smiled sympathetically and lifted her blankets for him to join her.

"What's up with the blanket cave anyway?" He asked conspicuously, lifting the blanket over their heads so that they were now completely submerged under them.

Evelyn shrugged with a friendly smile. "It's a weird habit I have when I read, it kind of makes me feel like I'm actually _in_ the story rather than this world. Not that this world is bad but you know what I mean."

"More than you realize." He smirked crookedly and rested his head against the wall behind him.

"You collapsed my cave by the way. Now it's a melted igloo and I can't see anything." She held up the blankets so that they rested atop their heads again.

"Thank you...for understanding. For trying to understand, anyway." He said quietly, bringing his knees up.

Evelyn frowned for a moment as if confused by him thanking her for something that came so naturally. "Of course. I'll always try my best. And if I don't, you have permission to give me a swift kick in the arse."

"Does that rule apply at any time?" He asked with mock sincerity, his face twisted in wonderment.

"Absolutely _not_, you have to deal with me otherwise." She lightly pulled on his hair with this statement.

Mitchell turned his face toward her with widened eyes as if she had truly hurt him. "You mean deal with your abusive ways?!" He teased as he turned, wrapped his legs around her waist so that she was trapped, and gently pinched both of her cheeks with his hands. He scrunched up his face.

Evelyn attempted to keep a straight face, but it was an impossible feat with someone like Mitchell in your company. He released her face and leaned back on his hands.

Evelyn then squawked with laughter, covering her eyes with her hand as she did so. Mitchell stared at her questioningly, not quite understanding what was funny. "This looks like a rather compromising position, does it not?" She asked as her cheeks flushed as she said it.

Mitchell's mouth fell open into a large grin, his brows raised. "Someone's got quite the dirty mind!" He noticed the pink filling her cheeks – though how could he not, he could even smell it, but he ignored the thought. He decided, instead, to play with this opportunity. "What are you insinuating?" He joked, only for the fun of watching her embarrassment continue to shine on her face. This whole time she couldn't help but smile bashfully, hiding her cheeks with her hands.

"Is _that_ what you've been thinking about this whole time? Was this just a trap?" He pressed, trying ever so hard not to burst out into laughter.

"Stop it!" She laughed, leaning forward to shove him in the chest.

"Is it sexy?" He knew that this would do her in; now she shifted the blanket so that her head was wrapped in it and recoiled in shame. Mitchell finally howled with laughter.

"I hate you." She spoke through the fabric, refusing to ever expose her face to humanity again.

With a huge smile still pasted on his face, he mockingly rolled his eyes even though she couldn't see him. "You couldn't hate me no matter how hard you tried." He challenged, which Evelyn responded to by threatening hovering her fist over his man business. Mitchell flinched until he realized she hadn't done anything yet, placing his hand over his crotch in preparation.

"That's cheating!" He cried, as Evelyn's shoulders bounced as she laughed. Seeing that she wasn't giving up, he sat up so that he was a mere few centimeters away, grabbed her arm and removed the blanket from around her face. Without warning, he placed his hand behind her head and rather roughly brought it close so that he could kiss her.

Taken by surprise, she snickered before kissing him in return. It was moments like these, the most vulnerable ones, that made Mitchell so much more human. For Evelyn, it was pure bliss. Not only having the ability to kiss him, but that it meant he could be warmhearted and break his walls down even if he did have many untold secrets and potential instability about him.

Mitchell shifted so that he was on his knees, then leaned forward and positioned Evelyn onto her back. The pace of their embrace was increasing and it was becoming similar to the night Mitchell had revealed his 'alternate personality'. She ran her hand through his thick mass of curly hair, following his lead. His left elbow propped him up while his free hand found its way beneath her shirt. Evelyn drew in a sharp breath and they both shivered at the touch of polar opposite temperatures colliding. He lightly ran his hand along her rib cage, but with each touch it was becoming more and more unbearable to curb his intentions. Pretty soon, Mitchell's hand found the clasp of her bra, which made Evelyn freeze. Mitchell paused and opened his eyes, his chest heaving.

Evelyn looked down at his mouth, hesitant. "I...I don't think we should...right now. I _want_ to, I do...I'm just-" She paused as Mitchell's hand freed itself from beneath her shirt and gently rested on her lips.

His brows arched with sincerity. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. We'll wait."

Evelyn stared at him a moment before giving a small nod. He kissed her forehead before shifting his weight onto his side beside her. If he was being honest with himself, he never had this much control with other women. Well, then again he wasn't exactly in the right state of mind he was now, but even so. He was also more patient than he was even five years ago.

"What now?" Evelyn asked, rotating to lay on her stomach.

"_Sleep_ I hope! You have to be up early for school." He gently poked her in the ribs. She grumbled at the thought of an early morning lecture and lesson. He untangled himself from the bed sheets and when he went to get up, Evelyn grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. They shared a laugh before he pecked her on the lips once more.

"Sweet dreams." He muttered before leaving the room and crossing the hall into his own, closing the door behind him. He stripped off his button-down shirt and tanktop underneath, as well as his pants and slid into bed.

Evelyn did all her pre-bedtime routines before switching her light off and immediately fell into a slumber.

What felt like five minutes later, she was sitting upright in her bed. Sweat was masking her face, her eyes wide in fear, and her chest rising and falling as she frantically looked about her pitch black room. When she realized it was a few hours later, and that she was no longer trapped in a nightmare, she took deep breaths and closed her eyes to compose herself.

She had dreamt that Mitchell had been tied to a post in a darkened room and was being tortured and beaten by a clan of vampires. They were faceless, but in her dream she had acknowledged that it was the group that had sought her out and attacked her and the unknown faces she'd never met. During it, she had been trying to get to Mitchell, but no matter how fast she ran she wasn't making gains. She had reached the torture room, but it was as if she were running on air and could never reach past a certain point. Instead, she witnessed this abuse for what felt like days.

She hadn't realized that the sweat on her face was blended with a few tears as well. Swinging her feet over her bed, she fumbled around her dresser as she grabbed a fresh pile of clothes and took a quick, cool and refreshing shower to clean the clamminess all over her. Once dried, she quietly padded her way to Mitchell's door which she prodded open, trying to avoid any creaking that would wake him.

Something she loved about his room was that he always had the brilliant, radiant light of the moon gleaming in through his window. It made the room look unintentionally majestic, as if it knew a special creature slept here. For a moment she allowed herself to watch him sleep in peace. He lay on his back, his blanket just up to his abdominal area, and his right arm resting behind his head. His chest rose and fell harmoniously. Not having to worry about fighting his demons, making an error, a slip...a reassurance that her dream was only a dream and not reality.

After some time she crept over to his bed, lifted the blanket just enough for her to crawl under, and rested her cheek and arm against his bare chest. The movement made Mitchell stir, but only enough for him to move his arm so that it wrapped around her comfortably and he was making groggy, sleepy noises.

Evelyn tilted her head up just enough to look at his face; he was still asleep, but he started to spew unintelligible words which she couldn't understood. She wanted to laugh, but didn't want to wake him.

Then she made out that he was saying her name, or rather a shortened version "Evie". He muttered it only a couple times sparingly, but he was certainly still sleeping. She listened more closely.

"I love you," came the words directly from his unconscious mouth. Evelyn froze even more so than she was already, feeling a lump in her throat all of a sudden. Was she dreaming again? Did she misunderstand his jumbled sleep-language? But now he was silent. The words had come out almost as clear as day, as if he had said them knowingly.

So much for getting any sleep tonight.


	11. Going Forward

**Going Forward**

The sunlight was pouring into Mitchell's bedroom, and while this was a pleasant sight to most in this country as it was uncommon, Mitchell's eyes were especially sensitive to it. He stumbled out of his bed, eyes squinted and his hand blocking the glare from his burning eyes as he drew the curtains closed.

He let his eyes adjust before he pulled on some black pants and a tanktop. In the hall he peeked through Evelyn's open door, then remembered she was at school. He made himself some black coffee and sprawled out on the couch. The problem with getting comfortable with having constant company was that it made the silence so unbearably loud.

He slugged down his piping hot coffee and looked around the room, his wheels turning for any ideas as to what he could do to pass the time. He could call Annie, but given that it had been quite a while since he last spoke with her, he would likely be on the phone for at least a few hours. He had weeks of news to tell her, and that would come _after_ she scolded him for 'avoiding' her. She was truly becoming a frightening pre-wife...wife.

Instead, he decided he should probably develop a plan and several backup plans for how he was going to pursue this interrogating vampire group. It was clear they were never going to leave him alone; they were going to do what it took to either force Mitchell to join them once and for all, or kill him once and for all. The problem was that he couldn't accomplish this task on his own, but the majority of his old friends either were killed or moved to the opposite end of the earth.

He needed a strategy and one that would leave him invisible; one mistake and he would be found out and killed on the spot. He needed to know where, when, how, and even _who_ he was seeking. For all he knew, there could be thousands of them, or just the few that he'd met. In a way, he wished he had never come out of hiding. He was safe here...but then he never would have met Evelyn, and she was an important piece of his life now.

It was still early morning, not even ten o' clock yet. Mitchell assumed it would be good to get a start before Evelyn got home so as to not alarm her. Although he spilled his guts about what he intended to do, he still didn't want to hold it in front of her while he did it. It was still an adjustment for her, this world of his. He walked to the coat hanger, threw on a black jacket and some sunglasses, and made his way outside.

Every week the air grew colder and soon winter would be upon their doorstep. He scanned the area before he began in the direction of the alleyway where he had previously been confronted. He didn't even know their names yet, these new vampires. Maybe they were actually old ones and he'd been out of the loop.

Mitchell stopped at the entrance of the alleyway, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket as his eyes studied the area. To his left was a massively tall, rocky wall, and to his right were the posteriors of houses. To think he nearly fed – _did_ feed, but for a second – where several upon several people could have seen him...such a foolish, irresponsible idea. He walked forward, thinking if he were to track these monsters it would be to backtrack from where he first met them. Much to his dismay, there was hardly a sign of life back here.

As he was turning on his heel in search of a new route, he noticed a small body crouched just twenty feet away, seemingly hiding behind a garbage bin. Mitchell slid his sunglasses onto his head and squinted, walking a bit more slowly.

"Billy?" He asked tentatively; he could recognize his former dealer ten miles away, and it wasn't just because his eyesight was special. He confronted Billy, who was now slowly beginning to reveal himself.

He looked terrible, as if it were possible for him to look worse than the last time Mitchell had seen him. He had to have lost at least thirty pounds; his bones were protruding where they weren't hiding beneath his tattered clothing. Mitchell's brows furrowed, but Billy's nearly-toothless grin grew ever wider when he finally recognized Mitchell.

"_Lewis!_" He screeched; Mitchell forgot every time that he once had an alias. To Mitchell's surprise, Billy lunged forward and wrapped his frail arms around Mitchell. Mitchell barely stumbled backwards as he tried prodding Billy's skeletal body off of him.

"Ah, Billy, alright...alright! And my name isn't Lewis, it was just...a nickname for _those_ times. It's Mitchell." He said as he finally managed to dislodge Billy from him. Once he got a closer look at Billy, he could see how sunken and hollow his face was. Mitchell knew this was Billy's decision, to have this lifestyle, but it still made him sad. He barely knew the guy, but nonetheless. His eyes were supported by purple-tinted bags beneath them, and his face was painted with countless red blemishes and sores. His skin was already coated with wrinkles, and he was barely younger than Mitchell.

"Well you look grea', Mishell!" Billy slurred; part of his speech defect was due to the very few teeth he had left in his mouth. "Wha' you been takin' to look so good?" His face twisted in genuine curiosity.

Mitchell took a step back and shook his head. "Oh, oh no, I'm clean. I haven't, uh...haven't touched the stuff since, well the time before I last saw you."

Billy's face fell in sheer disappointment. "Oh, well...are you out? Do ya nee' a new supply? Issat why you came back?" With each question Billy's intonation crescendoed with hope that Mitchell would give in, but Mitchell only shook his head with a gesture of his hand. By now, Billy was grasping at Mitchell's coat in a very strange manner, as if he were a blind man searching for the person standing right in front of him.

"No, Billy, I actually was looking for...some acquaintances. I thought I'd find them here but I see I'm wrong, so...I should be going." Mitchell turned on his heel to leave, but Billy's bony hand grasped Mitchell's elbow. For a second, Mitchell felt his blood boil, and he wasn't sure why.

Billy noticed the look of complete malice that shone across Mitchell's face in that moment. His voice dropped and he loosened his grip. "You know where ta fin' me...if ya e'er need me." He let go of Mitchell, who stared into Billy's darkened eyes for a moment. Were his eyes always so black?

Mitchell simply nodded, hoping this would end this confrontation. But as he began to walk away, a nagging guilt gnawed at him. He threw his head back in frustration as he fiddled with the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a handful of pounds before tossing them into the cloth pile that lay beside Billy.

"Go get yourself something to eat, and a shower or something. You look terrible." Mitchell said as he turned away one last time, after he'd seen Billy's face lighten up. He could hear him celebrating behind him as his voice echoed along the path. Mitchell brought his sunglasses down to his eyes again before exiting the alleyway.

For the next hour, he made his way further into town, checking out potential abandoned buildings that could serve as breeding grounds for vampires. Since he had been so disconnected from the scene for so long, he didn't even know if his kind associated themselves with such establishments anymore. For all he knew they could be hiding themselves within sewage passages, though with the recent run-in in the cafe recently he also didn't know how much hiding they were actually doing.

He could feel cold rain beginning to stab his face in the breeze as he continued his search. He hadn't even realized the sun had been concealed by the deep gray clouds as he removed the sunglasses from his face. To his astonishment, he found himself a clue.

In the distance was a long wall of attached apartment buildings. They were clearly very, very old and discolored by age; they appeared to be abandoned, and he would have thought so had it not been for the figure he'd found staring at him. The giveaway was when said person bolted up the metal, unstable stairs and into the building after they'd recognized him.

Mitchell could feel his heart begin to race with each step he took toward the stretch of brick and stone. It was eerily quiet, and when he began his trek up the same staircase, he was greeted at the door just in front of him. It wasn't anyone he had recognized from recent events, though he did observe that they were clearly a vampire.

"John Mitchell. We've been waiting for you! Please, come in!" This man was about Mitchell's size, but was dressed in a navy blue suit which was contrasted by his white-blonde hair. The man's eyes were a piercing light blue and they almost looked transparent. His nose was pointed and his chin square.

Mitchell followed his lead without a word, his brows knitted in curiosity as he made aware his environment as he stepped inside. He was either making a huge mistake, or he was going to leave here lucky and in one piece if this was what he was looking for.

"Rufus Davies is my name, by the way. Oh, Atticus will be so pleased!" Rufus could barely contain his excitement, if he were even trying. His feet nearly left the ground at the mention of this Atticarius.

Mitchell looked at Rufus as they continued walking down a corridor. "Is Atticarius your...elder?"

Rufus nodded enthusiastically, his eyes nearly bulging from his skull at the very mention of him. "He and his wife, Kari, they run this joint! Oh he's going to be _so proud of me!_"

Mitchell rolled his eyes; it was twisted how much this man bought into the whole idea of serving his master when he was likely only a puppet for this Atticarius fellow. Rufus shoved open two heavy metal double-doors which introduced them to a massive room with two rows of columns. The cathedral ceilings contributed to the enormity of the building, which Mitchell hadn't expected to be quite so large from the outside.

There were several people scattered about doing this and that. Somewhere, there were abhorrent shrieking and yelling sounds, but with the echo and even with Mitchell's hearing it was difficult to pinpoint where this was coming from. The room had a multitude of strategically placed windows as they were nearer the ceiling so that the light could not reach their sensitive eyes. There were exposed beams criss-crossing amongst each other above, and the overall hue of the room was a pale blue.

As they walked further into the room, more and more eyes turned to see their guest. Rufus suddenly ran forward, leaving Mitchell standing in the middle of the crowd. He came back with a man who looked to be ten years Mitchell's senior, with a younger woman at his side. Mitchell quickly recognized the woman, the one who had confronted him in the alleyway. Mitchell's fists clenched in anger and his teeth were grinding together. The man beside her was just taller than Mitchell, with gray eyes, prominent black eyebrows and untidy black hair.

The man who Mitchell now perceived as being Atticarius, smiled cynically at Mitchell as he stopped just in front of him. The woman shared the same expression, her eyes boring into Mitchell's face. The screeching in the background was irritating to Mitchell's ears; he was wondering who they were torturing these days. Rufus was standing boastfully behind Atticarius, keeping his distance.

"Ah, Mitchell. We've been waiting for you to honor us with your presence, but you just keep resisting." Atticarius flashed a brilliant smile, undoubtedly his tactic to lure his vulnerable victims. He held out his hand to Mitchell, who only kept his clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. He was truly resisting with every fiber of his being not to fight, even if he only just met the guy. He could smell the corruption off of Atticarius.

Atticarius took his hand back, his eyebrows raised. "Alright, too forward. At least let me introduce you to my wife, Kari. Although to my knowledge, you've met her before. I'm sure you didn't forget." He spoke as if this were a natural occurrence. They already reminded Mitchell of Ivan and Daisy, though it wasn't uncommon for vampire 'couples' to claim their marriage only to go on doing illicit, sexual activities with others. It was exactly what happened to Mitchell from Kari, though at the time he wasn't aware of who, or what, she was.

Kari was smirking and her face was stone cold, unmoving. "I know _I_ didn't."

Mitchell cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on Atticarius. By now, they had an audience. "Let me guess, you've inherited the tradition of trying to bring me back into the repulsive excuse of a lifestyle you've come to adopt over some time? I'm not doing it."

Atticarius' head shifted back as if he'd been told something he didn't expect, but that didn't seem to be the case. "'Repulsive excuse of a lifestyle'? You mean that very lifestyle that you've committed to your entire life? You might have good days, weeks, months, here and there. But as much as you've claimed to be clean, you've _never_ been clean. You've just taken breaks and relapsed in no time. You were the poster boy for sobriety, but it was all a lie to make yourself look bigger and better and hide from who you really are. And then you failed again and again, over and over...it's almost insulting to associate ourselves with the likes of you." His voice was annoyingly calm, yet sinister.

This was nothing Mitchell had never known about himself or been told before. It was the truth, he couldn't deny it. And even though he knew this, it still was like pouring acid in a still-healing wound to hear it aloud and raw without sugarcoating.

It made him want to rip Atticarius' head clean from his neck even more.

"You can't claim you are dry when you had intentions of killing me only a few weeks ago." Chimed Kari.

"You instigated it, that was not all me. Had I known who you were that night, it would have ended differently." Mitchell's voice was so low it was beginning to crack, and his internal rage was skyrocketing by the second. The early noon sun was taunting the windows above, casting a slightly warmer haze about the room.

"No excuses, Mitchell. History shows you're nothing but a wolf posing as a sheep. But let's get to the point...we're devising an ultimate resurgence. You might have noticed we've been becoming more public. We only wanted to warmly invite you into our arms. This time, it would be permanent, no more wavering and doubts, no more pretending to be something you're not. But we warn you, should you decide not to accept our offer, you _will_ be killed in our path. There are no survivors, save for those who choose to accept this lifestyle." Atticarius stated smugly, as if he were simply extending an invitation to have coffee. It drove Mitchell absolutely mad.

Mitchell took a giant step toward Atticarius so that he was a mere inch from his face. His face hardened as he stabbed his finger into Atticarius' chest. "I _respectfully_ decline. If you so much as step within a half mile radius of me, or even your cohorts, don't think for _one fucking second_ I won't rip your throats out. I may be clean, I may be trying my _damn_ hardest to stay that way, but I'll be damned if I let a revolting son of a bitch like you destroy everything I've built my life around. Your brainwashing method won't work; this is nothing new to me. You're all a broken record, you're hypocritical, you're _weak_!" He took a half step back and realized the crowd surrounding them had pushed in since Mitchell had confronted their leader.

Atticarius simply chortled at this. Mitchell was beginning to learn how difficult it was going to be to convey his message properly. As Atticarius was about to speak, another ear-bleeding screech filled the room.

"What the fuck _is that_?!" Demanded Mitchell, covering his ears from the torturous sound.

This got Atticarius' attention; he looked rather pleased that Mitchell asked. "Come, and I'll show you. That is if you can handle it." He summoned Rufus behind him as they led the way down the deep room. Mitchell hesitated between the decision to bolt now or go along with it, but curiosity got the best of him. The more he knew about these people the better off he would be when the time came to end them.

It was a long walk until Rufus opened another metal door that blended into the wall seamlessly. They all walked in, and inside was another large room but only half the size of where they just were. In every which direction there were people – vampires – in lab coats, dozens of machines, and the myriad of horrific sounds was all the more prolific.

Mitchell couldn't believe his eyes once he finally understood what he was looking at. There were several upon several hospital beds throughout the room, and on them were...not people, but distorted and disfigured creatures. Nearly all of them had endless tubes fastened from their skin to the machines beside them. Mitchell's face screwed up in utter disgust, not quite sure what to make of this. At the end of the room were floor-to-ceiling windows with the shades drawn, more than likely to avoid prying eyes.

"What...?" This was all Mitchell could spew as they stepped further into the room. Some of these beings were so deformed he wasn't sure if they were once human or animal. Some of them were staring at Mitchell with what looked like expressions of hopelessness.

Atticarius slowly walked around the room as if he were giving a presentation of his school project. "Hybrids. We haven't...quite accomplished what we're looking for. But with each day that passes we are only that much closer."

Mitchell paused, trying to grasp what he meant by his words. "Hybrids? You mean...crossbreeding? Between what, or dare I ask?" His mouth upturned into a frown as he witnessed one of the vampires, who was posing as a doctor, inject a serum into the arm of one of the bodies. Beside them was another victim who was being severed at, clearly without use of anesthesia as this creature howled in agony. It made Mitchell's stomach turn.

"Ah, yes." Atticarius stated like this were the most obvious method used in the world. "What could be more deadly than a vampire and a werewolf bred together? It's not been done before to my knowledge; I'm quite disappointed in that, actually. But this will become our army over time, alongside the pure ones of course." He grinned arrogantly.

Mitchell's breathing hastened and the putrid smell filling the air polluted his lungs. "How many people have you killed?! There's children in here, what are you thinking?!" Without much thought, Mitchell's body hurled itself forward as he grasped the collar of Atticarius' suit and forced all of his weight onto him.

They both slammed into the floor a few feet away, but before Mitchell could continue, Atticarius had him by his neck. Mitchell gasped for air as Atticarius lifted him by the throat and pinned him against the wall. People were now flooding into the room to witness this lively event, some hooting and hollering in support of their leader.

Mitchell used all his force, which wasn't much by now, and jammed his forehead into Atticarius' face. He fell backwards and Mitchell fell onto the floor. The next second, before Mitchell could compose himself, Atticarius' fist met with Mitchell's nose. The searing pain blindsided him as he soon felt his head collide with the wall beside him. Flashes of white claimed his vision.

"Stand back! I have this under control. He is my business." Atticarius shouted; though Mitchell was having a difficult time adjusting his eyes, it was clear some of the vampire companions had stepped forward to aide Atticarius in his beating.

Mitchell stood dangerously too fast, leaning against the wall behind him for support. He bit his bleeding lip before rushing forward and jamming his head into the abdomen of Atticarius, who seemed to have lost focus of Mitchell's condition and was taken aback. Atticarius began to fall backwards, but Kari leaned forward and caught him by his arm.

"_Kill him_, Atti!" She shrieked with nothing less than terror on her face that her husband was even marked. His eyebrow area was bleeding now.

Mitchell stood in a challenging stance, his head rushing from so much trauma to it. Atticarius pumped his fists, ran at Mitchell, and pinned him to the ground with all his weight. Mitchell struggled to free himself from his grip, but the only thing he managed to do was scratch Atticarius' face.

For the next thirty seconds, Atticarius did nothing but pummel Mitchell's face and body in. Every half second there was grueling pain in different areas of his body, and at one point Atticarius was wielding a pocket knife and slicing here and there. Mitchell was helpless at this point, even as much as tried with all his strength to get away. His eyes were blinded by the blood soaking his face; when he opened them it dripped into his eyes. His breathing was frantic.

"Dear Mitchell..." Came Atticarius' voice, in which he now stood them both in a standing position. Atticarius gripped Mitchell tightly so he couldn't break loose, and began walking them backwards. Mitchell refused to give up, striving to free himself, and keeping eye contact with Atticarius despite blood blinding his vision.

"I don't want to kill you now. It would be too easy. I want to see you go honorably." Atticarius spat through his teeth. As Atticarius became more and more cocky with his threats, Mitchell managed to break free at just the right second, but he was too late: Atticarius shoved Mitchell through the glass window behind him.

Mitchell felt the weight of the ground slip from beneath his feet, his stomach turning and his breath caught in his throat as Atticarius' face quickly fell out of sight. Mitchell landed atrociously onto the concrete ground a few stories down from where he was thrown. For a few seconds he couldn't breathe, the wind having been thrown from him. His face scrunched and he began writhing in agony on the ground, rolling onto his side as his back throbbed in excruciating pain.

Atticarius peeked his head through the shattered window, staring down at Mitchell smugly, though Mitchell was so blinded by pain he didn't see him.

"Consider this a warning, Mitchell. Remember what you're up against...this is only the tip of the iceberg." He called before disappearing inside the building again, pulling the curtain down to block out any possible gawkers.

Mitchell groaned as he continued rolling on the ground, but he knew he needed to get out of here as fast as possible. He was over an hour away from home, and in some of the worst pain he'd felt in ages. Evelyn would be home by now and he thought he would've been back in time.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his eyes but only irritating the wounds to his face further. His hair was a sloppy, wet and untidy mess. He struggled to get to his feet, and when he finally did, he swayed into the garbage dumpster he hadn't realized was nearby. He allowed his trembling legs to get used to standing position again before he slowly, but surely, made the miserable journey home.

–

Two hours later and Mitchell pulled himself up his porch stairs, fumbling his key into the keyhole, but needing not bother as Evelyn hurriedly pulled open the door. Mitchell fell forward onto the floor, causing Evelyn to gasp in horror at his condition. As gently as she could, she used all her strength to get him into the house completely. She closed the door behind her and sat him up against the wall as he rested his head against it and tried catching his breath.

"What the hell happened?! I was worried sick, you hadn't left a note..." She trailed off, realizing that this was probably not the right time to lecture. She attempted to lightly wipe away the stains on his face, but the moment she made contact he hollered in pain. "_Sorry!" _

"I f-...I found their headquarters." He breathed with exhaustion. Evelyn only stared at him in confusion for a few seconds until it dawned on her what he meant, since it could only mean one of...well, one thing.

"You _what_? I thought this was going to be something that happened later?" She asked with slight exasperation.

"So did I." He said, she could have sworn a smile was playing at his lips. "Honest to God, I swear on my _life_ I had no intentions of winding up like this. I was positive I'd have no leads as to where they were hiding; for all I knew it wasn't even within the country. But it was so painfully obvious." He looked over at her bewildered face.

Evelyn sighed with patience. "Let's not worry about that now...you can explain it to me later. We should really clean you up before you get infected."

Mitchell laughed at this and Evelyn's eyes widened a bit, not quite expecting that reaction. "Infected...I'm technically dead already." He said playfully as she jokingly narrowed her eyes at his sarcastic reply. "Alright, alright...just, help me up if you can?"

Evelyn leaned down, wrapped her arms beneath his armpits, and with the assistance of what energy Mitchell had left, propped him to his feet. Mitchell felt quite pathetic. It took longer than what should be necessary just to get him up the stairs, and with each step his back throbbed.

"Jesus, what'd they do to you?" Evelyn whispered, finally getting him to the landing and into the bathroom. "Go in there and...well, take off what you're comfortable with and we'll go from there. I won't look." She said as she helped him into the bathtub and turned away from him.

"If I'm taking my clothes off there's no point in you looking away now if you're going to look after." He teased halfheartedly, in which he was given a dirty look over Evelyn's shoulder.

Mitchell leaned forward as best he could and closed the tub drain and switched on the water. Since his body temperature was constantly frigid, he often preferred warm water but due to his wounds, cold water would be much less irritating. He began undressing, realizing it probably made sense to do so _before_ starting the water, but nevertheless he was in nothing but his underwear now.

"I'm decent. Well...I could be more decent, but..." He mumbled as he dropped his stained clothing onto the floor, switching off the tap so that it was now filled to his ribs. The cooling effect was already helping.

Evelyn turned around and silently gulped; even with all the horrid wounds scattering his body, he was just a stunningly handsome person all around. She tried her hardest not to think too much about it, after all, she was only helping him heal his injuries. And this wasn't an appropriate time to gawk.

She gasped when she sat on the ledge of the bathtub and saw all the gashes and slices covering his body; the water was already a murky red. She grabbed the shower hose.

"Close your eyes just for a minute." She said softly as he obeyed her. She switched on the shower head and began hosing down his face, removing all traces of blood that she could. Once finished, she replaced the hose to its original location. "Okay."

Mitchell opened his eyes, relieved to not be seeing red in his peripheral vision, though he could certainly smell it. "You know if you don't want to do this, I can. I'm a big boy." And as much as he attempted to sugar coat this offer, he did feel quite helpless. It felt as though each individual bone in his body was shattered.

Evelyn soaked a washrag and began wringing out the water onto his chest and stomach so that the exposed blood rinsed out, blending in with the tainted water. "Ssh." She was only half concentrating on anything he was saying, her face slightly contorted in concentration. Some of the wounds were quite deep, and she didn't want to irritate them further by getting distracted. He was already ninety-five percent naked in front of her as it were.

Mitchell stared at her with awe, his lips pulled just slightly in a small smile. He then chuckled, but only as far as his bodily pain would allow him. "This is completely the same exact situation we were already in, only our roles are reversed." It wasn't too long ago now that Mitchell had thought Evelyn was going to die from blood loss after the vampire attack only a short time ago.

Evelyn began working on his face now as he closed his eyes. His face was swollen in the areas where there were lesions, and his nose was still freshly bleeding. "Hopefully...it doesn't become too traditional." She said, dabbing at his nose.

"You're an angel." He murmured, opening his eyes once more as Evelyn finished as far as she could. All day and night, she'd been thinking about what Mitchell had said in his sleep the previous night, and she'd forgotten about it for the first time until now. She hadn't a clue as to how to bring something like that to light. For now, she wouldn't.

"And you're done...after we rinse you off." She pulled the drain up, allowing the filthy water to completely drain before she once again hosed him down with fresh water. She grabbed a nearby towel and gently began blotting at him, careful to not press hard on the injured areas which were great in number. They carefully got Mitchell out of the tub, dried, and onto his bed, and Evelyn found some fresh clean clothes for him to wear.

"You should probably change those though, unless you want swamp ass." She joked, pointing at his sopping wet underwear. "But first, let me take care of all that."

"Ooh, but I'm so helpless and in pain, can't you do it?" Mitchell cried in a mockingly whining voice, in which Evelyn flung a clean pair of underwear in his direction. He laughed, and she made her way into the bathroom on the search for the proper medical supplies. She grabbed what she could and as she was walking back into his room, she quickly dropped everything in her hands when she was faced with full frontal nudity.

She nearly screamed, mostly out of embarrassment and unexpectedness, instantly covering her eyes and turning away as she felt the rush of blood fill her cheeks. "_I'm sorry!_ I didn't know you were doing that already!" She stumbled backwards, the clinging and clanking of supplies on the floor being swept along with her feet.

But Mitchell was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, and it was mixed with grumbles of pain as his muscles pushed onto the lacerations. He finally managed to pull his clean clothes on, but not after stumbling around for a minute or so. His back protested, forcing him to sit again.

Mitchell's grin was wide from ear to ear, forcing himself to come back down to a normal breathing pace. "Come on, it was only my winkie. It went into hiding." He said whilst trying to contain himself.

Evelyn covered her cheeks with her hands before she picked up everything she'd dropped and sat at the edge of the bed as he pushed himself up onto it against his pillows. She was avoiding any and all eye contact.

"Ooh, come on now. Living in the same house it was bound to happen." He was smirking, but she wasn't having it as she worried about cleaning up any remaining fresh blood and patching him up with gauze, antibacterial cream, and medical tape.

Evelyn began patching up his inner thighs, holding her breath as she did so. Afterwards, she had him sit forward now that she finished his front end wounds, so that she could wrap it up at his back. Mitchell complied without a peep.

As Evelyn was out of Mitchell's sight, gently covering the gaping wounds with gauze, she allowed some tears spilled from her eyes. Injuries such as these would have killed a regular human two, if not three times over. Though she was ignorant to the limits of vampires, she couldn't resist picturing Mitchell lying dead on the pavement. She didn't understand the complete situation yet, but she was certain these vampires could have easily taken Mitchell's life had they wished for that, or had he _not_ been shoved out of a window.

She was confused because this brought on several emotions and thoughts all at once; how would she handle death? Would he ever die? His sleeping words rushed back into her head, which only puzzled her further. How did she really feel about him? Of course she knew she liked him very, very much and she considered him her best friend – her only friend. Who was she kidding, she's knew she loved him some time ago now. Did he really love her in that way, or was it just a mistake considering he wasn't conscious? Was he even dreaming of her or was he aware of her presence last night?

Mitchell noticed that Evelyn had finished, yet she was still lingering and his back was beginning to ache from leaning forward. He looked over his shoulder where she was hunched toward his back and saw she was quivering now. He frowned, unsure if this was related to her walking in on him changing or something completely different.

"Hey! What happened?" He sat himself back against his pillows so that he could see her face now; she was full on crying, but trying her hardest (and failing) at trying to conceal it. She could only shake her head at this point, unable to form any real words. Mitchell slid her all the way onto the bed, scooting over so she'd have space, and cupped her wet face with his hands with a worried look about his face.

Evelyn took some deep breaths, her bloodshot eyes looking up to find his. She waited until her throat was clear again to speak. "I don't know...I guess it j-just hit me that you could have been out of my r-reach within seconds today, I wouldn't have even known it until it was t-too late."

Mitchell felt a twang of guilt tug at his stomach. Although it was true he hadn't expected the days events to happen as they did, he felt like it was still a major accomplishment. However, the guilt of not turning around when he may have had the chance was beginning to eat at him. He supposed he didn't necessarily have to make a trip into the vampire quarters, but how else would he have gotten confirmation that's who was living there? As much as he cared for her, this was a task that needed to be done whether she approved of it or not. With that, he did at least want her to try to understand why it was so crucial.

He shook his head as if him dying was a ridiculous notion. "I had it under control, Evelyn." He saw the look she gave him and he backtracked a bit. "For the most part, up until the end. Then it got a bit out of control."

"If you weren't already in enough pain, I could kick your arse right now." She said as she began drying her face with a spare gauze pad.

Mitchell laughed just slightly, leaning in to tenderly kiss her on the cheek. "To be fair to you, that was one area that didn't sustain any injuries...so I suppose you still could if you wanted to."

Evelyn smiled and shook her head, still befuddled by the challenge of bringing up last night. It was nagging at her and she needed to just let it out, and now was her chance.

"Mitchell..." She began, he stared at her in response. "Last night...I had a really bad nightmare. You were in it. But anyway, I couldn't sleep and I came to your room to make sure it _was_ just a dream."

Mitchell listened, though he didn't recall anything of the sort happening.

"Well," she continued. "I decided to stay with you for the night. And while I was lying here..." She felt a knot in her throat; she was mostly afraid of Mitchell's reaction. It could go either way, and either way may or may not upset her. She just didn't know.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently, or as patiently as he could. "Did I do something embarrassing in my sleep?" He prodded half-heartedly, but Evelyn tilted her head in thought.

"I guess it depends on how you look at it...or rather, how it happened." She realized she was dragging this on too long. "Anyway, you said...you told me you loved me." She held her breath, unable to look him in the eye. It was as if everything in the room came to a stand-still.

Mitchell paused, gawking at her as if waiting for her to say she was only kidding. But she didn't, and slowly his smile fell a bit. He couldn't recall any dreams he may have had, but he also didn't remember Evelyn in his bed either. Or maybe he did...he remembered a moment when it felt like his bed was sinking and someone had put pressure on his side, which must have been Evelyn. He swallowed, unable to conjure the right words to say to her.

Instead, she cut in. "I don't want you to feel like you have to explain yourself, or say whether or not you consciously meant it, I won't take offense either way. I promise. I think it was just such a shock and I barely slept a wink. Honestly, I was so busy today, I nearly forgot it had happened until tonight. I guess I just felt like I should be upfront about it..."

Mitchell was still speechless; love, at least romantic love, was such a foreign concept to him. He'd never experienced it in that sense so he wasn't positive how he would know how it felt. The most familiar feeling that he had ever had nearest to romance was lust. Even still, he needed to say something. Long, uncomfortable silences were only bound to make things more awkward.

"I, uh...I don't really know what to say, I mean...I wish I did. I just...I've never actually _been_ in love, so I don't know if it's supposed to arrive as one big, obvious, swooping emotion or...subtly." He felt that with each word, he screwed up the situation even further.

"It's just subtle. You know when you know, as cliché as that may sound. I think it becomes more obvious when you've not realized it yet and you're apart from that person, and then it hits you." She spoke almost robotically and there was a sadness to her voice. "But I don't want it to make things weird between us."

Mitchell looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry...maybe I just need time to figure it out myself." His face was pained, aside from the physical pain he was enduring. He felt like such a dolt, even if he hadn't been in love it was obvious even to him that this wasn't how he should have reacted. He should have reassured her that what he said was true, but he couldn't lie to her. Though she wouldn't admit it, there was a stabbing pain somewhere within her even if she knew she shouldn't have bought into someone talking in their sleep.

"Well...that's perfect then, because I'm leaving town for a couple days to perform at some children's charity event a couple hours away." She raised her eyebrows in hopeful anticipation that this would be good news and that it would also eventually change the subject.

Mitchell looked at her in surprise. "You're on stage already? That's fantastic! And so fast, I know it's been a long time but when I had friends in drama school it took them months, _years_ even to get a decent gig around town."

Evelyn grinned shyly, shrugging her arms. "They told me I have great potential, I know it's only a minor thing for now, and I hope they're not sheltering me just because of...ya know, this." She gestured to her head. "But the majority of my class is going to be there so it feels legitimate."

Mitchell's eyes crinkled in excitement for her; she needed more positives in her life and this would surely be a boost of confidence. "I'm happy for you. When is it?"

"I leave tomorrow and we'll be back Tuesday, on my birthday." She swung her legs up onto the bed so she was lying parallel to Mitchell, observing the several white patches scattering his body.

Mitchell's eyes widened at 'birthday'. "Your birthday? Well we have to celebrate, it's not everyday I get to celebrate a birthday, ya know."

Evelyn smiled but shook her head. "We don't have to do anything special. I actually got used to not really having a birthday after my parents' accident...you know, there wasn't enough time and all, and my mam could barely recognize what world she was living in let alone a birthday." Even though she said this without bother, it still tugged at Mitchell's heart strings. From all the humans he'd ever known, not one ever avoided a birthday celebration. It was nearly as traditional as Christmas.

"We'll figure something out. Maybe we'll just stay in and..." He sighed dramatically. "I'll cook dinner." He cringed at the thought, which was followed by Evelyn looking over at him.

"I never noticed, do you cook? You make a mean breakfast...but other than that?" A gentle smirk was tugging at her lips at the pathetic expression played on his face.

Mitchell sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "No, that was all George and Annie. I was usually just the grocer and instigator. But for you I will try, unless you want to be certain you _won't_ starve on your birthday."

Evelyn chuckled, wanting nothing less than to squeeze the life out of him but knowing it might literally do just that if she tried. "I think just hanging out with you would suffice. We can order in if you're too anxious to cook. I'm a little worried about food poisoning myself, but..."

Mitchell pinched her in the ribs at this retort, enjoying her uncomfortable fidgeting.

"What happened when you found those other vampires, anyway?" She pondered suddenly, grabbing Mitchell's hand so that it would stop harassing her rib cage.

Mitchell leaned his head back against the headboard in thought. "Well I learned that their leader is a pompous, arrogant and self-important bastard first and foremost. And then they showed me their experiments. They're essentially breeding vampire and werewolf genes together, somehow...I always thought that was simply folklore. At least, that's what I gathered from it."

Evelyn gave him a strange look to which he questioned. "It's funny hearing _you_ speak of folklore. Go on." She encouraged with a small laugh. He smiled.

"Anyway...it doesn't sound like they've been successful, but they're certainly not going to end it any time soon. They've _killed_ mercilessly, Evelyn. They're picking people off the streets, enlisting their own kind and werewolves and forcing them into these...disturbing operations. If you asked me to describe what they were like to you, it'd be impossible. They were the farthest things from human but they weren't anything like me." He was staring blankly out into the room as he spoke, picturing what he had witnessed in his head. "But I expressed my feelings toward it and it got me thrown out a four-story window." He stated casually, as if being tossed out a building was a regular response to anything in life.

Evelyn was stunned, even if she had yet to witness the actual horror that was a vampire or a werewolf. By Mitchell's reckoning, this future contamination was bound to be atrocious to all forms of life.

"Is there anything that can be done about it?" She asked, staring out at the window where the sun was beginning to set.

Mitchell shrugged and shook his head. "To be honest, this is probably one of several hiding spots they've chosen. How convenient that they rented out an entire lot so that nobody could catch them that shouldn't be in there. It's going to take a long time to figure anything out and I'm going to have to make some friends along the way to be successful."

"Are you sure that _you_ have to involve yourself? Can't you just pack up and leave unnoticed?" If this were the case, she was sure he would have done it by now, or at least before the vampires had begun taunting Mitchell.

He shook his head hopelessly. "Nah, they'd follow me to the edges of the earth if only to bring my head back on a stake." He leaned forward and grabbed the pile of clothes he had forgotten about as they were casually having an important conversation while he lay in nothing but his skivvies. After throwing on a button-down and some pants, he sunk back into his bed and rested his head in Evelyn's lap.

She combed back his damp hair with her fingers as his eyes closed, wondering what was in store for them now. She thought she had a lot going on back home in Ireland, but in a way that had tripled since moving here. It was only a few months since she'd moved here and these unexpected occurrences were bound to become more frequent the longer time went on. Although she was unsure what the future held for her, and that she was aware of the potential dangers that lay ahead, she was finally comfortable despite her personal troubles. She would just have to make the most of what she had while she had it.


	12. Fireworks

**Fireworks**

It was mid-afternoon now and Mitchell had just returned home after seeing Evelyn off for her trip. He'd have the place to himself for a couple days, which to most people would be liberating, but all it did for him was slow time down. He decided to use this opportunity to finally ring Annie before it got too late in Australia. He took a seat at the kitchen table before dialing.

First Annie did as he suspected, which was scold him for waiting so long to call. But there was barely a moment's pause before she went on to bombard him with every single wedding detail he was pretty sure not even Cedric cared about. Well, not that Mitchell didn't care, per say...he was beyond happy for Annie. But when she began gabbling on about colors he'd never heard of before in his life and blubbering over the difficult decision between lace and silk on her dress, she lost him. He started to take quite an interest in a stain on the kitchen table before Annie finally changed topics.

Mitchell brought her up to speed on the last few weeks. He hadn't realized just how much had happened in such a short period of time, but it seemed with each day his life was brought on by new challenges. He was blatantly honest with her about everything, even up to the whole...'love' debacle he got himself into, and the importance of birthdays.

Annie sighed on the other line. "Oh, Mitchell...I feel like this is typical you to get into these sorts of situations. Well, except for...love. _That's_ new."

"Annie, you're not helping." He muttered, subconsciously biting his nails.

"Right." She paused in thought; phone silence was usually a bad sign. "As for the whole love position you're in, I can't really give you any advice on that except to take advantage of Evelyn's absence. I agree with her that it might take some distance to realize your actual feelings for her. And don't be afraid to tell her you're not ready to say it yet, it's better than lying to her and getting her hopes up."

"That's a lot of advice for not having any advice." He teased, grinning. He really missed Annie. "And what should I do about her birthday? I can't recall the last time I celebrated one of mine. I was probably...I don't know, twenty?" He gestured his hand in the air as if he were having a lively conversation with someone in front of him.

Annie cackled. "Make it special for her...but make it _your_ special, not anything, you know, overdone or...just don't go spending your life savings on fireworks or pop out of a giant birthday cake." She sounded flustered as if she were vividly recalling a past experience.

Mitchell frowned. "Who does that?"

"I don't know, Australian soap operas. They're mad. But anyway, I think Evelyn deserves just a normal, happy celebration of her life. If that was something I could celebrate, I would jump at the chance. Who knows when the last time she had that opportunity was." Annie said this with more enthusiasm and less sadness than he would have expected out of her, but he knew this was because she was at a comfortable period in her life. She was genuinely happy with her situation. Annie used to be in a similar position when she seemed to have been forgotten about when she had died, until she had met Mitchell and George and became the best of friends with them.

"She told me it was some time before her dad died. So...something like eight years." He said, leaning back in his chair. They'd been on the phone for two hours by now, their ideas ranging from tea parties (Annie's idea) and filling the entire house with balloons (Mitchell's idea).

"That's a dreadfully long time. _Alright, I'm coming_!" She shouted, presumably to Cedric. "Alright deary, it's nighty time for me, we have our cake tasting in the morning. HA! Who am I kidding? We're only _pretending_ to taste it; we're bringing some new friends with us so they can be our assistant tastebuds." She guffawed at the thought of eating once more before wishing Mitchell good night and good luck.

Mitchell grinned and rolled his eyes, "good night, Annie." He hung the phone back up, sighing as he looked around for things to do. He refused to have another go at Atticarius; he was still hurting from yesterday and if Evelyn came back to an abandoned house...well, he just needed to wait.

Before he could take another step, his phone was buzzing in his hand once more. Annie. He picked up, but didn't expect what came next.

"Oh, and Mitchell...", Annie sighed before there was another awkward-phone-pause. "When I said make it special for her, what I wanted to say was...given her situation...I don't mean to pressure you, just-" Mitchell was getting impatient with anticipation.

"Annie. Just spit it out." He said, picking idly at the chipped paint on the wall he was now leaning against.

Annie hesitated. "It's a tricky disease, cancer. It can be as mild as ever and in a few months it could come back more deadly. I know I'm not speaking from any personal experience, just that I've lived in this world long enough to see how fragile mortality is." She took a breath as if she had been holding it in this whole time. "Basically what I'm getting at is, try to make every day special for her. You never know how many more birthdays she's going to have." Her voice dropped a level; clearly she was unsure how Mitchell would react.

Mitchell closed his eyes. It wasn't a conversation he had expected to surface, nor a topic he had even acknowledged. He just treated Evelyn as less of a victim of an illness and more of a person with just as much life to her, if not more than most, but burdened with a unique hardship. In fact, recently he began to forget she was even sick. Tagging along to treatments, assisting her with certain tasks she found impossible at her most vulnerable, and helping her recover from all of the above were as normal as breathing to him at this point. Sometimes for someone to bring the issue to his attention was just as ghastly as the first time he learned of Evelyn's illness.

Mitchell swallowed. "You don't need to worry about any of that. She's not going to live a life at all if she is constantly reminded that she is sick." Needless to say, it wasn't a conversation Mitchell was willing to have, so he and Annie kindly said their goodnights to each other and hung up. He knew Annie was looking out for his best interest, but was never one known to be patient with lectures.

The next day was followed by Mitchell pacing throughout each room of the house for inspiration.

That's when he really thought about what Annie said. _Make it special for her_, she had said. Mitchell scratched his chin in thought, mentally rearranging and decorating the house. No bursting out of cakes, fireworks were out of the question whether Evelyn would have wanted them or not. Rather, he had a more simplistic idea that was not only within his range of talent, but something that wouldn't be so overwhelming the next time Evelyn walked in the door.

He stepped into the kitchen, and the next thing he did was completely voluntary yet still took him by surprise: he slipped on a pair of marigolds. He was just thankful no one else was here to witness such a spectacle, and he would definitely be keeping this tidbit far, far away from Annie. Once he managed to create some sort of cleaning solution concoction, he got to work.

It had been so long since he last gave this place a proper clean, and he was disgusted by the thick dust pile that he removed from the windows alone. His face twisted in disgust at how long this was going to take. He popped a couple pain-relieving pills first, because there was no way he would accomplish anything with his back in the condition it was.

For the next several hours, he mopped, scrubbed, dusted, hand-washed, soaked, and vacuumed the floors, walls, windows, doors, counters, tables...everything he could think of, in every room. Originally this began as a small project just to make preparations for Evelyn's birthday surprise, but once he got into cleaning mode he couldn't stop himself. However, now his back was massively protesting and his other wounds weren't exactly cooperating with him either, so he decided he was finished.

He slowly descended onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and allowing his muscles to relax. Silence. It smelled and sparkled like a brand new flat, and now he wouldn't have to worry about cleaning it again for the next ten years. He then had an idea as he ascended the stairs a bit sluggishly and walked into Evelyn's room to scout out ideas. She didn't own many material things, so it was difficult to draw inspiration in that field. He was about to give up until his eyes landed on the small photo frames of her parents on her dresser.

He walked over to them and picked up the one that had she and her parents in it together. It looked as though it took place in a snowy mountain range, the entire family bundled up in cold-weather gear. Their smiles were radiant. Evelyn's cheeks were brushed a bright pink from the cold – she couldn't have been more than fifteen years old in this photograph. He would enlarge it for her to serve as a reminder that her parents would be immensely proud of her had they been alive today.

With that, he spent the next several hours writing a list of possibilities and bad ideas in front of the telly in hopes that something would come on to encourage him. If anything, it provided him with a 'do-not-do' list, which consisted of strippers (or stripp_ing_), poems (George's...'strong suit'), and food fights because that would only piss off the birthday girl and ruin the three hours she spent trying to look decent for the day.

Mitchell sighed with a groan and thudded his forehead against the table. Maybe he needed to watch more television aimed at female audiences, but those only exaggerated actual life by a hundred as Annie stated. It was midnight by now and he had another full day like this ahead of him before Evelyn would be home. He would need a plan by tomorrow, so he decided today defeated him and that would go to bed and hopefully dream up an idea.

–

The following day, Mitchell spent a few more hours adding to his list of possible theories before he settled on something..._subtle_. Subtle. "_It's just subtle_". He stared blankly at the wall as realization struck. He swallowed and broke free from his trance; Evelyn would be home after dark and he had yet to get a move on.

Once home, he strategically placed all the candles around the room; on shelves, _in_ shelves, on tables, anywhere with a flat surface. He stuck her new photo in an old frame of his and left it beside the original photo; he thought this could be a more private gift in which he didn't need to be present for. He finished tidying up the house again before whipping out a probably-dated phone book from one of the kitchen drawers, looking for the first Chinese restaurant he could find. He had no idea what he was saying, let alone ordering, as he placed a delivery ahead of time to arrive later. He'd remembered the first time they had shared Chinese food together, in which he nearly ate his plate along with the food, but for all he knew he could have ordered a dozen fungi.

He walked over to the shelf where the record player sat and fingered through the thick stack of albums, his brows furrowed in thought. He settled for Tom Jones, an old favorite of his, and prepared it beneath the needle.

He had one last idea that he was hoping would go over better than he expected. He rang Evelyn's phone, knowing she wouldn't be able to answer, as it went straight to her voicemail.

"Hey! So, something came up, some old mates of mine are in town and it's been _years_ since I've last seen 'em. I guess they're only staying the night before they leave again, so I don't think I'm gonna be here tonight. But I _promise_ I will make it up to you and we'll, uh...we'll do something fun. Okay...talk later. Bye." His face scrunched in anxiousness of how she would take that – he either was about to make this whole thing that much more surprising to her, or she would just end up not turning up at all. In which he would kick himself in the arse for days.

Lastly, he fixed up his hair before heading to his room and shoved himself in his closet, pulling out a deep navy blue suit. It would sort of be the icing on the cake; he couldn't very well make all this effort and not look presentable.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a suit. It had to have been in the 70's but luckily his body hadn't changed much since so it still fit him snugly. He nipped and tucked at it here and there, feeling content now. It was about a half hour until Evelyn would be home, and the sun was nearly below horizon now. He headed downstairs and began to light all the candles – there had to be 50 of them – and turned the remaining lights off. He began to wonder if this was a wasted effort; what if she was utterly gutted by his message and decided to avoid him?

Just as he began to overthink, he heard the sound of a car door outside.

"_Shit!_" He hissed to himself, finishing the final candle before he scurried to the record player and quickly set the needle so that it began playing quietly. He leapt over to stand a bit away from the front door, exhaling as he heard the rattling of a key in the door.

When Evelyn walked over the threshold, it actually took her a moment to realize Mitchell was standing just a few feet from her and there was music playing. She had a white bandana tied around her head and was wearing a black lace dress which flowed loosely below her waist and bore a sweetheart neckline.

She slowly looked up, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw Mitchell standing there, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. She felt a million emotions all at once, taking in the candles which set a relaxing mood, the music, Mitchell...who looked so different yet the same.

"I thought...?" She began, slowly letting her bag fall to the floor.

Mitchell grinned and shook his head. "Happy birthday, darlin'." He muttered, walking over to her and extending his hand to her.

Of course now she couldn't hide her smile even if she wanted to; she was just glad it was dark enough to conceal her rosy cheeks. She happily took his hand as he led her just a few feet over into the open space of the main room, placed his other hand at the small of her back, and slowly began to sway with her.

Evelyn stared up at him in complete awe; so many unbelievable things were happening so closely together, she didn't even know where to start in figuring out how all this came about. But rather than question him, she just let herself enjoy it while it was happening. Mitchell gently rested his forehead against hers. For a long time, longer than either of them had even remembered, they remained this way in comfortable silence.

"Thank you." She whispered finally, closing her eyes. She not only meant it for this particular instance, but for everything he had ever done for her.

Mitchell stared down at her face, specifically on the freckles that he so loved. He brought his hand that was in hers and joined it with his other around her waist. She locked her arms loosely around his neck.

There was a knock on the door which made them both jump. Mitchell had completely forgotten about the food.

"Who is it?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Your dinner. The problem is I don't know what I ordered." He reluctantly untied himself from her and greeted the delivery man at the door, who placed a mighty large brown bag in his arms. He didn't remember ordering quite this much.

He headed into the kitchen with Evelyn just behind him. As he opened the bag, he pulled out one large container; it was bigger than his head. He frowned. It was the only box in the bag. He pulled back the flaps, read the note inside that read '_Enjoy your meal... x Atti_'.

And several things occurred all at once.

His eyes recognized the metal object beneath the note with a digital screen that was flashing tauntingly at him. He turned on his heel, grabbed Evelyn's arm and sprinted for the door before there was a massive explosion just as Mitchell was pulling it open.

Smoke, fire and debris were swirling angrily about them. Mitchell winced as the impact had left him flattened to the floor, and he couldn't open his eyes due to the polluted air. The sweltering heat from the fire around them caused him to sweat profusely. He army crawled along the floor, staying as low as he could, as he reached his arm around for Evelyn who was somewhere beside him in a fetal position, cradling the side of her head with her eyes squeezed shut. The adrenaline pumping through both of them was too severe to recognize any pain yet.

"Evelyn! Where are you? Give me your hand." He forced an eye open as pieces of the building began toppling over them. He groped around the room before he finally found her elbow, which he grasped and began tugging her toward him.

She complied, unable to speak from the shock of the explosion and the fumes polluting her lungs. Although he couldn't see much, he knew outside was only a few feet away. He hunched and brought Evelyn up in his arms before leading her to the front porch, where the smoke was billowing out onto. Once they reached fresh oxygen, they both began coughing excessively. When Mitchell finally got a good look behind him, he realized there wasn't much left to the house at all. It was all in shambles.

Neighbors began filling the streets and sidewalks to inspect what had just happened. Mitchell coughed up a chunk of black debris and spit it on to the ground as he led Evelyn further from the burning building and across the street. She was still pampering one side of her head, and Mitchell noticed streaks of blood peeping through the hand holding it.

"Shit, we need to get you to the hospital." He said to her, but she could barely hear him. Her ear was doused in blood and her other ear was ringing from the blast. Mitchell began to panic; he knew that the location of her injury was bad enough without the threat of her body's inability to clot blood.

Within minutes, all emergency personnel had arrived and surrounded the building whilst removing the gaping people away from the vicinity, including Mitchell and Evelyn.

The medical personnel began examining the both of them, in which Mitchell freed himself from them. "I'm fine, I'm fine. She needs immediate attention, take her." He gently pushed Evelyn in the direction of a paramedic who quickly ushered her to the nearest ambulance. Evelyn looked over her shoulder at Mitchell in protest, but he turned his back and headed in the opposite direction.

He had something else in mind that he needed to do.

He ran as fast as he possibly could in the direction of the vampire quarters he'd only just been in. His back was still in immense pain, but the thought of ripping Atticarius' head off was distracting enough to not think about it. His suit was ripped and tattered in places, but he didn't care. He didn't stop until he reached the metal staircase – by now the full moon was high up in the sky. He mentally asked George, wherever he was, to assist him in what he was about to do.

Mitchell burst through the door with his bleeding hands, striding without incident down the corridor path and into the massive room. Moonlight was spilling in through the high windows; several faces turned to meet his. Some of them backed away, others stood frozen. There were definitely less of them here than last time.

"Who did it?!" Mitchell shouted, his shoulders tense and his arms out at his side as he made his rounds around the room, staring each vampire in the eyes as he did so.

"Where is he?!" he continued along the concrete floor, but there was no sign of Atticarius let alone a whiff of him. The room was silent; when last he was here they had all been jumping at the chance to have a go at him. Mitchell's mouth hung open, panting, looking for his antagonist.

Once he reached the end of the room, he turned around to face all the pale faces staring back at him. Some of them fled through the door in which he came; they were likely new to this lifestyle and hadn't quite learned how to defend themselves yet. Mitchell was still relatively infamous for his past crimes, though less so than ten years ago.

Mitchell shoved open the door that led to the experiment lab, but it had been cleared out. It was obvious to him that this was Atticarius' plan B. He knew if Mitchell survived, that he'd come looking for him, so Atticarius left and took his test subjects and most precious mates with him.

Mitchell began pacing the main room again, this time a bit slower and with more malice. A sly grin was plastered on his face, his head bowed as he peered at them all beneath his furrowed brows. Deep shadows were cast over his eyes.

"So he ran. Just like the coward that he is. He can dish it but he can't take it, no." He called to his audience, looking to his left and right as he did so. His eyes locked on a vampire who he remembered from last time. This man looked frightened of Mitchell as he slowly began backing up against the wall behind him. Mitchell confronted him and in one swift movement, gripped his hand around the man's neck before he could dart out of his corner.

Mitchell looked around him; not one person volunteered to help their friend. Mitchell's grin only grew wider. "It's odd, isn't it? I seem to recall the last time I was here and I was being defiled by your leader, _all_ of you would have jumped at the chance to have your turn." He slowly padded back into the middle of the room, the man still grasped in his hand. The man was making grunting noises, though Mitchell was only holding him tight enough so that his air supply was only slightly cut off. He didn't actually mean to hurt him, unless he made an attempt to do so to Mitchell.

"So where is he, the bastard, huh? _Answer_ me or I swear to God I will tear his head clean off his spine." Mitchell spat when nobody attempted to answer him.

A small black-haired woman finally piped up, her voice small. "H-he's gone, sir. He's left for the Quarter Isle."

Mitchell turned to stare at her, giving her a chance to redact her statement had she been lying to him. It seemed he intimidated her enough for her to speak the truth. "What is that? _Where_ is that?" He demanded, stepping closer to her. The strangest part about this woman was that she was a mere human, and yet still alive in this room full of blood-thirsty vampires.

She balked until Mitchell quickened his pace toward her, in which she pinned herself against a stone pillar in his presence. "I-in the Isle of Wight, sir. It's his main headquarters; this is only t-temporary." The woman's voice was naught but a squeak now, and it was obvious that sharing this information was going to get her killed as she would likely be told on by her counterparts.

Mitchell squeezed his eyes together, trying to remember how far this was from them, though he knew it was too far to get to tonight. He would have to find another time. Had he not smelled the fear on her, he would have assumed she was lying to him. He released the man he'd been holding; he wasn't going to kill any of them. Most of them were naïve and hadn't a clue what they were getting themselves into.

"If he should return before my next visit...tell him I was here." He ordered, his voice low and grumbly. "If I were you I would leave the city tonight. He won't recognize who he left behind and who he took with him; you're only his puppets."

And with that, he exited the building and made his way to the hospital. He checked himself in after receiving several stares at his condition, but he paid no attention to them. His blood was still boiling; he had no intentions of letting Atticarius live after tonight. His only wish was that he could have fulfilled this tonight.

When he found Evelyn's room number, he walked in despite a nurse attempting to stop him. He probably looked like a crazed man to her who was going to hijack her patient. There was nobody in the room with Evelyn, who was sitting in a hospital bed with a thick bandage wrapped securely around her ear. She had patches of black debris on her exposed skin. Evelyn looked up to see who had entered her room, only to see Mitchell's sorrow-filled face staring back at her. His face softened, and the built-up rush of adrenaline was rushing to his brain and his stomach and he felt sick.

He walked to her, sat at the edge of her bed and planted a kiss on her forehead, examining her condition as thoroughly as he could. "I am _so_ sorry." His voice cracked with sincerity. He had brought her into this life.

Evelyn shook her head at him, upset that he would even think about apologizing for what had happened. "Stop it, you did nothing wrong." She gently pushed him back so that she could get a good look at him. It was difficult to differentiate the wounds from Atticarius versus tonight's; a few cuts on his face and hands looked fresh, but otherwise his clothes were covering everywhere else. Had anyone else been in his place, they probably would have bled to death in the last twenty-four hours.

"What's happened to your ear?" He asked, staring at the white lumpy bandage stained in red. His stomach turned upside down.

"They aren't sure yet. They said I've lost a lot of blood. Where did you go, anyway?" She subconsciously played with the bed sheet in her lap. Her voice was muddled and her head pounding.

Mitchell debated on whether or not he should tell her. He hadn't done anything wrong, in human terms, but he wanted to. Would that be enough to scare her off? Would it be a selfish act to keep it to himself? "I, uh...I went to find this...Atticarius fellow." That was an easy enough explanation, he felt.

Evelyn made a half-nod, but it was obvious she either didn't understand or she wasn't biting. "And what were you expecting to accomplish?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Just wanted to take care of some business, that's all."

"You say that as if it were the simplest resolution in the world. You were going to kill him, weren't you?" Her expression went from placid to worried.

Mitchell hurriedly looked around the room for any listening ears. "We can't have anybody hearing us." He sighed and threw his head back, closing his eyes. "I was maybe going to hurt him a little. But I wouldn't have cried if he wound up more dead than he is already."

Evelyn stared at his profile for a minute. She couldn't even picture him killing anyone...she couldn't even picture him _hurting_ anyone. "I know I've said this before, but this is what they want, Mitchell. They're instigating you and they won't stop until you end up back with them or until you're...dead on the street or something. How can I see this and you can't?" Her brows arched with worry.

He thought about this; he didn't know what he knew. It was a tricky situation because it was extremely difficult, nearly impossible, to sit back and take the harassment and let them get away from it without persecution. It was only in his nature to retaliate, especially after what had happened with George. It was a never-ending grudge he would likely keep forever, or until he was at least able to avenge his death.

"I don't know why I feel like _I_ have to be the one to end it. I just...I just _do_." He began rubbing his sore forehead in frustration. "This has been going on for over half my life, this vicious cycle. There's a leader, he finds out what I've done only to discover I'm dry, they try to lure me back or threaten to kill me, but eventually they die first. Then it happens again with someone new. I can't even _count_ on one hand how long this has been happening." He was exasperated. It was hard to explain and frankly, he didn't expect her to fully understand. She could try, but unless she was in his shoes, she wouldn't get it.

Evelyn could read the pain in his face alone and she wondered how awful it was so be him sometimes when he dealt with these situations. She drew a long breath. "How about we just try to get some sleep and we'll start to figure out everything in the morning?" She whispered, inching over so that he would have room. By now she had changed into a loaned pair of hospital scrubs.

Mitchell was happy to drop the subject for now. What he needed to focus on was that their home was very likely lost, and they needed a temporary stay until they knew it could be fixed or they found a new flat. He slid himself beside Evelyn, wrapping his arms around her small frame as she curled up beside him and pulled up the blankets to their shoulders.

Mitchell wasn't sure he'd get much rest tonight.


	13. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Desperate Times, Desperate Measures**

The next couple of weeks proved to be severely difficult. In between Evelyn's treatments and school and Mitchell's home being deemed 'unsafe and not fit for living', they had been in pursuit of a new location to live. Although Mitchell already told Evelyn that there was no hiding from vampires if they wanted you, they could at least hold them off.

They'd waited a day or two for Evelyn's ear to recover; it was determined that she received some hearing loss from the blast, but nothing substantial and she was lucky she wasn't half deaf now.

For two weeks, they had been taking shelter in the hospital, unbeknownst to the staff there. Together, they had built the idea of pretending to be visitors of a slowly-dying relative so that when they were found sleeping in the visitors rooms every night, there was nothing unusual about it. Considering this was where Mitchell had previously worked and where Evelyn had been getting her recent chemotherapy, they couldn't believe they hadn't been caught red-handed.

For food, they had the cafe. There was also a handful of times that Mitchell would pilfer food from there or the vending machines. They got by on just scraps. For showers, they snuck into empty rooms as patients were being discharged since they provided showers in the bathroom. Usually they would have to take turns sitting in the halls, purposely overhearing when one patient would be discharged and the next would be moved in, and then they'd plan accordingly. For clothes, they only had what they came in and every few days they would swipe clothes from the gift shop. In retrospect, they did mighty fine considering they were homeless. But now the routine was getting tiring and they were to be found out now. Not only did Evelyn despise breaking the law, but their dying-relative excuse could only be taken so far.

But then came the end of week two, in which security had to ask them to be removed from the hospital grounds. Much to their ignorance, they had been monitored on the security cameras over the last couple of weeks. They were found stealing and taking advantage of the hospital utilities, and because they were familiar with Mitchell, they offered him a pardon if he and Evelyn left without a fuss. Unfortunately, however, they were both blacklisted from returning to the hospital. What's worse is that Evelyn was an established patient there, and now she would be denied entrance. If she tried, she would be arrested.

Their next obstacle included several rainy, miserable nights huddling under bus stop shelters and anywhere that was dry. It was exceptionally cold during the nighttime hours, in which they would try their best to share body heat to keep each other warm when the wind wasn't sweeping it away from them. One Friday morning, Mitchell woke up feeling like he had been hit by a truck. His body ached, he felt quite feverish, and he began to lurch. Evelyn felt helpless as they didn't have access to any doctors or medications. But as if her wish to get off the streets had been overheard, Mitchell's friend Billy had come along.

Much to Mitchell's surprise (and reluctance), they were beginning to rely on Billy's assistance. He resided with some tawdry friends of his in a shady, old shack of a flat on the edge of town when he wasn't scouring the streets for drugs. He offered them a space in there until they got back on their feet. Although it wasn't anything near their ideal arrangement, they couldn't remain on the streets much longer. Mitchell was skeptical. He knew Billy, but his relationship with him went as far as friendly acquaintances and nothing more. To move into the same residence as someone who was essentially a stranger to him was a bit overwhelming, and he couldn't begin to imagine how Evelyn felt about it. In fact, little to Mitchell's knowledge, it took everything within Evelyn to not beg him to turn Billy's offer down. In the few times that Evelyn had ever met Billy, she had one of those gut-aching feelings about him that rubbed her the wrong way. He stared at her frequently and it made her quite uneasy. Those moments had her feeling that she'd much rather sleep in the sewers.

But alas, there was no other roof they could put over their heads for the time being and Mitchell was feeling worse by the hour. They made a trip back to Mitchell's flat for the first time since the incident to gather whatever items that didn't perish in the blast. For Evelyn, she was able to reclaim the photograph of her and her parents and some clothing, but that was about it. Mitchell had his eye on one object - George's necklace – which he had found with some time and that Evelyn would keep in her backpack for safekeeping. When they arrived at Billy's, Evelyn took a big gulp when he first laid eyes on the exterior of the building. It looked as though she could dust it with a feather and the entire structure would collapse. The windows which climbed the sides of the building were littered with holes and spiderweb cracks throughout. Evelyn and Mitchell exchanged glances before following Billy's lead inside.

They had to climb a few stories of rusty metal stairs to get to their destination. Billy was grinning like a little school boy, as if this were the greatest idea he'd ever had. All Mitchell and Evelyn wanted was a decent shower and a hearty meal to fill their stomachs. But when Billy opened the door to his flat, they instantly knew they were going to get quite the opposite: the living quarters were baron of any sort of furnishings, but there were a few haggard people slung about the floors as if in some sort of euphoric state. Mitchell could count six from where was standing; most of them were lying on their backs or slumped against the discolored walls, clearly high off of something. Mitchell could feel the anxiety building in his chest. This was possibly the worst idea of all, and he'd almost rather be sleeping in the rain or even a hail storm rather than here.

Evelyn's eyes scanned the room, unsure of what to think. The only thing she knew was that if this was the norm, they wouldn't be able to stay here very long. They needed a new plan, and quick.

"Well, what d'ya think?" Billy asked, thrusting his arms forward as if he were presenting something great. His eyes crinkled in delight. Nobody else in the room seemed to even acknowledge that they were there. Mitchell's brows furrowed.

"It's, uh...charming." Mitchell's face was a bit scrunched in disgust; he couldn't get the thick scent of the mixed fumes out of his nostrils. The further they walked in, the worse it was. The wooden floor beneath their feet protested as if it were ready to give in with each step. Evelyn so badly wanted to lift the collar of her shirt over her nose, but she wasn't sure if she should worry about offending anyone...not that the majority were mentally present in their state.

"Don't worry 'bout them, they don' usually stick aroun' longer than a couple'a days." Billy retorted casually, spotting himself a seat on a nearby stool. Mitchell and Evelyn stood there, unsure of what to do with themselves. "'Cept for a couple friends of mine who pretty much live 'ere. I'm not sure where they been off to. Oh! There's a spare bedroom jus' 'round the corner there. Should be unoccupied." He gave a toothless grin, and with that, they made their way to said bedroom. The bed inside was not only fit for one person, but the sheets were stained an odd yellow hue.

"I think we'll be taking the floor until we find a more suitable arrangement..." Mitchell mumbled as they stacked their bags in the corner of the room. Evelyn stepped closer to him; she was afraid of being overheard.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" She whispered, rubbing her hands over her arms. It seemed that there was a lack of heat in the place also, and they were soon realizing this building wasn't much better than the outside after all.

Mitchell shrugged reluctantly. "It's certainly not my favorite, but it will have to do for now. If it doesn't work out, we'll go to plan B. As soon as we have a plan B, that is. Why don't you call dibs on the shower before somebody else gets in there? I'll try to figure out what to do about...this," he gestured to the entirety of the room.

Evelyn grimaced. "I don't think I want to know the state of the bathroom," she said as she gathered a few articles of clothing that she had left. It had been weeks since either of them had bathed or ate properly. Once she got into the bathroom, she jumped at the sight of two scraggly-looking men who were hunched over the closed toilet lid. When they heard the door squeal open, they hurriedly turned around to see Evelyn standing there wide-eyed. They eyed her up and down for a long while before she finally spoke.

"I suppose I should find another bathroom..." She murmured, but as she started to back away, the men protested her leave. The one who spoke had shoulder-length crimson hair, and his cohort had a buzzed head and piercing blue eyes. Though she wasn't originally from England, she could clearly recognize the red-head's Lancashire dialect. Something about them made her stomach sink; the same feeling she got around Billy.

"No! No, don't worry about us. We'll get out of your way." The red-haired one shuffled back onto his feet whilst sweeping the excess white powder off of the toilet seat. He look apologetically up at Evelyn, and the other man was gawking at her. She got goosebumps and didn't realize how tightly she had been grasping the clothes in her arms. The blue-eyed man's mouth was lifted upward in one corner, nearly a smirk. Evelyn looked away, waiting impatiently for them to leave the room. As the men left, although Evelyn left enough room for them to both pass, they seemed to graze her purposely as they walked by. She shivered, and hurriedly locked the bathroom door behind her and let out a long-held breath. She had a very bad feeling about this place, though maybe it was just due to the lousy first impression.

Evelyn was happily surprised that they _did_ have hot water, so she took her time scrubbing every ounce of dirt off of her while she had the opportunity. About forty-five minutes had passed before she began to dry herself. Never had she felt more like a new person than at the current moment. As she began to wrap a towel around her small frame, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a quarter-size hole in the drywall. What brought her attention to it was that she could have sworn she saw something flash past it, something red...but as she got closer, there was nothing on the other side. Frowning with paranoia, she quickly got herself dressed before heading back to the spare bedroom.

Mitchell had laid layers of cleaned sheets on the bed after all, and was lying on his back with his arm resting over his forehead. Evelyn dropped her dirty clothes on the floor and sat at the edge of the bed, gently removing his arm before placing the back of her hand on his forehead. He definitely had a fever now. His other arm was draped over his stomach.

"All signs point to flu, my dear." Evelyn said as Mitchell groaned in response. She wanted to mention to him what she thought she had seen in the bathroom, but she didn't feel it was appropriate right now. Mitchell needed to rest more than anything else. Plus, she was probably just being her usual paranoid self. It was just about evening time now, and after much insistence of Evelyn, Mitchell finally found what energy he had left to take a hot shower. She figured it might help clear his nasal passages, seeing as that was going to be the best medicine they could conjure up for the moment.

While Mitchell was away, Evelyn began to create a makeshift bed on the floor for herself. For whatever reason, there was an endless supply of bed sheets in the closet, so she layered them as thick as possible so she could avoid waking up with a stiff back. She knew Mitchell would likely protest her little project, which she proved herself right when he came back with dripping wet hair and was trying to convince her to take the bed while he take the floor.

"No, _noooo_...you're sick, _you_ need the bed," it didn't take much convincing for Mitchell as he had almost zero energy left to be stubborn.

For the most part, they'd been left to their own devices, which was completely fine by them. In fact, they preferred it. The traffic in and out of this place was never-ending, loud, and very intrusive. There was little to no privacy, unless they locked themselves in the bedroom.

Evelyn was beginning to worry about what she would do about school and her treatments. She was beginning to struggle in school due to missing so much class, and she was scared they would dismiss her altogether if her marks kept dropping. She also was concerned about her treatments – she wouldn't be allowed back on her primary hospital's grounds after she and Mitchell made it a temporary living area under their noses. She would need to establish with a new facility, but her main issue was transportation and time to do it all. It was a week and a half after she was due for her previous chemo treatment, and it was starting to wear on her. On top of all of this, she knew that Mitchell's mind was working overtime about Atticarius now that he had a bit of down time.

It was the third day at Billy's makeshift "home" now. They still were keeping mostly to themselves, and different people every day were still swarming in and out. Though much to Evelyn's dismay, the two men she'd been an unsettling feeling about still stuck around, and they still ogled at her ominously. She tried her best to avoid any confrontation, but it was difficult when they had to share the kitchen and bathrooms. She had took it upon herself to fetch their own groceries and other necessities as Mitchell was ailing. Once Billy caught word of Mitchell having the flu, of course his natural response was to "gon' and get you some dope, boy! That's a natural pain killer, ya hear" - to which Evelyn would slam the door in his face.

Mitchell's condition was worsening, having upgraded to a fever of 103, worse body aches, and constant vomiting. His skin was so clammy, they had no choice but to strip him of his clothes but keep a lightweight sheet over him so as not to contradict his body's efforts to fight the infection. It was Evelyn's turn to nurse him back to health this time around. He looked miserable and peaked beyond measure. Today, she'd gone on another trip to the market and the best she could do to treat his symptoms was some over-the-counter medication.

"My god!" He exclaimed as the thick red substance went spewing down his chin, "wha ish thisshit?" His thick brows were furrowed so tightly together in disgust, Evelyn couldn't help but bust out in a fit of laughter. Mitchell looked over at her as if she were the most vile human on the planet.

Once Evelyn caught her breath, her stomach muscles aching in protest, she perched herself on the side of his bed. "No, but really, it's just something to fight the infection. It's not meant to be a torturing device, I promise," she said as she used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe up the dribble caught in his growing face stubble. Mitchell forced the thick syrup-like substance down, but not without much reluctance. His face twisted with so much revulsion, he was sure his stomach was one second away from throwing itself out of his own mouth. Luckily, he was able to concentrate the abhorrent cherry flavor away. His skin was prickled with goosebumps.

"Really, of all the things you ingest, you can't even stomach cherry syrup," she teased, and gently pushed him back flat onto his bed again. "You need to rest. This may be your only chance to do so, especially now that you're vulnerable under my power for the moment."

He tried to scowl at her, but he felt so ill that it would take his last ounce of energy. He never perfected the strategy that was "relaxing", but the heavens knew probably ever person he ever encountered in his life begged him to do so at some point or another. It wasn't long before he felt the grogginess of the medication kicked in, much to Evelyn's slyness that she had chosen that tactic to knock him out. She sat patiently at the end of his bed until she was sure he was asleep, brushing away a few curly strands of hair from his beautiful face. Grabbing the light blanket at his feet, she brought it up to his waist so as to not give him a chill, but attempting to not overheat him.

With that task complete, Evelyn grabbed her small backpack, tip-toed out of the bedroom and lightly closed the door behind her. It was a little past noon, and she was going to hike to her school to meet with a counselor and resign from her courses. With everything going on now, she wouldn't have the time, transportation, nor the finances to keep up her education, but would later do so when things settled down. She hadn't discussed this with Mitchell yet as she knew it would upset him, but she accepted that her fate now is to stick it out at his side as they tried to figure out life together.

As she made her way there, she felt the needle-pricks of raindrops begin to hit her skin where it was bare, and she tried to hasten her pace. The rain seemed to mock her and she hung her head low to avoid it. She ducked into an alleyway where she was able to deviate the sideways-flinging rain. When she looked up again, she was stopped dead in her tracks, confused. There stood two of Billy's flatmates, the flame-haired man and the hairless, blue-eyed one. She attempted a forced friendly smile, but the expressions on their faces and their body language as they began to pursue her were making her feel like she needed to begin running.

However, she was mentally trapped, and decided to try a different and less-obvious method. "What are you guys up to?" She asked with false curiosity, but neither of them spoke. Rather, they kept taking strides toward her and she began to make her way backwards but never turning her back to them. Something gleamed in the partial sunlight from somewhere behind her, and she noticed the bald man had a knife clutched in his fist, but he was clearly trying to hide it from her eyeline.

Her legs began to tremble and she felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped into her bloodstream and was flowing into every inch of her body. Finally, her fight-or-flight finally kicked in and she managed to force her legs to twist and begin running back to Billy's. She stumbled, feeling more frightened than ever as the rain slapped her face; she could barely make out the footsteps on the pavement behind her. Her eyes darted from left to right, squinting as she mentally cursed at the wetness blinding her, trying to find any other person in the world to just help her. She knew she didn't have much endurance, and she was reaching a new level of panic.

The men behind her were shouting at her now to stop or they would "make it worse", but Evelyn had tunnel vision and was only trying to retrace her footsteps in this unfamiliar town. She was beginning to run out of options, and her breath was labored and her heart skipping, before she made a wild guess and leapt into the nearest alleyway.

The end of the road lead to a tall brick wall of an apartment complex, and she felt this was the end of _her_ road. There were only seconds left until they would come around the corner. Her chest heaved and her face was whiter than snow, her eyes dilated and her entire body quivering. She looked around her, but there were only garbage bins; nothing she could possibly defend herself with. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she decided her only escape would be to cut it close and run back the way she came in.

As she did so, the red-head clothes-lined her with his arm into her neck, and she fell back flat to the ground as every ounce of breath was drawn from her from the impact. Before she could breath properly, she squirmed and dug her palms into the gravel to push herself up. When she got to her feet, she only made it a few paces, seeming to take the men back by surprise, as they gripped her ankle and she felt her chin crash onto the concrete below her. As she was being dragged away, the gravely rock cutting against her stomach, she cried out seeing her escape go from within inches to several feet away.

The bald man was the one who had her in his grip, knife grasped in his other hand. The red-head was simply walking alongside her, but she refused to meet his gleaming face. She scraped at the ground before she finally managed to get a hold of a rock large enough to fill the palm of her hand. The dragging finally ceased, but her object didn't go unnoticed: red-head stomped on her wrist, but she bit her lip to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing her pain.

At this point, she was becoming more numb to her aching body as her adrenaline rushed in. The bald man was beginning to untie her shoes, and next was tugging at the hem of her pants roughly, and only then was she beginning to realize what they were going to do to her. Before she could stop it, her eyes began to water, but as her garments began to become shredded off by the both of them, she managed to inch her way up and bite the calf of the red-head's leg that was still pinning her arm to the ground.

He yelled into the air. She took advantage of her situation and whipped around to crack the rock into the bald man's head. He was flung backwards onto the pavement, and she tried to pull her pants back on to get to her feet. The red-haired man wrapped his arm around her neck, once again limiting her oxygen. She kicked her legs violently against the rocky floor as the bald man recovered, his hairline bleeding into his face. His eyes were black as a midnight sky. This reminded her of Mitchell for a brief moment, and it frightened her that she may never see him again.

That very thought gave her one more burst of energy. The bald man held his knife to her jugular, and she froze, feeling that she was out of ideas.

"_Wait_!" She exclaimed, unsure of what exactly they were going to be waiting for. She just needed to spare some time to figure out a way to live. The men hesitated and their grins grew. For some reason, they seemed unable to speak, so she didn't even know if they knew what she meant.

"I'm...I'm not what you want...if you hurt me, and the wrong person finds out..." Her hand which was behind her back, and dangerously close to the leg of the red-haired man, was fumbling in her backpack. She was only sputtering raspy words now, if only to bide her a few seconds.

On one of the nights she and Mitchell couldn't sleep, back in happier times, he was reviewing vampiric history with her. When she had asked how vampires perished, he had mentioned only through a wooden stake, but objects such as religious symbols were a great weakness. Since they last left Mitchell's flat to recover their belongings, she had never removed George's Star of David necklace from her backpack. When she briefly glanced up at the red-head whose clutch she was stuck in, she noticed his eyes were a normal human color.

Given that it was a small satchel, it didn't take long for her fingers to find the cold chain. She grabbed it as tight as her life had depended on it at this moment. By now, the blade of the knife was warm against her flesh and the bald man's hand was, once again, pulling at her pants and soon her undergarment. As much as she could, she tried to clench her legs together, but he was much stronger than her. The red-haired man used his free arm to begin lifting away her shirt. She forced herself to comply against her will, hoping beyond all hope her plan was going to succeed.

It was the moment that she whipped around her arm - George's necklace seemed to act like strings to a puppet master as their grips were immediately loosened, hissing sounds erupting from their mouths, and their hands over their faces, and their bodies suddenly several feet away from her. This time, she ignored her discarded attire, standing in naught but her undergarments.

With quick thinking and as much debate as she could allow herself, she noticed the men were trying to look beyond their hands. Rushing toward the bald man and with as might as her small frame could muster, she forced the point of her foot into the man's under-chin. Although she understood he was a vampire and this wouldn't do permanent harm, it made an impact long enough for her to approach the red-haired man.

But as she did so, she hadn't noticed when she turned her back that he was no longer there. She halted her bare feet in the stones beneath her, her body twisting every which way to find his location, but not without holding out the necklace at arm's length. Her neck where the knife had slit a thin layer was leaving a trail of red into her collar bone, her nearly-nude body trying to fend off it's inner-earthquake as she trembled.

Just as she was going to make her break for it, the red-head came from the sky and landed her flat on her stomach again. This time, rather than fright, she felt an immeasurable amount of anger boiling in her blood that she never felt before. She grabbed her backpack which was within finger's-reach, flipped herself onto her back, and hurriedly wrapped the cloth handle around the man's neck like a noose. There wasn't much left in her, but she wasn't going to die without a fight. They were too deep into the alley for normal passerbys to notice any unusual behavior, especially through the sheet of rain.

With all of her might, she forced the fabric up into his windpipe. As she did so, she allowed herself to cry, understanding what kind of terms she was allowing herself to come with in this moment.

She never would have dreamt in a million lifetimes that she would need to resort to taking a human life to save her own.

For a moment, it didn't seem to be working until he began to scrape at her face, tearing at her skin everywhere he could. After what felt like minutes, his lips turned an ugly purple color, his breathing labored to a stop, and the color beneath his skin was beginning to become as pale as his skin. The weight of his withering body was beginning to push on her, so at last she shoved him off of her.

Seeing that the bald man was beginning to stir, she grabbed her tattered clothing, George's necklace, and her backpack, and limped her way home.


	14. Solitude

Solitude

**A few days had passed since the horrid day. Evelyn had barely emerged from her and Mitchell's shared bedroom, curled up in a fetal position for hours on end. Her stomach twisted in knots constantly, and whenever Mitchell tried to pry an answer out of her, she passed it off as having caught the flu from him. As gut wrenching as it was to lie to his face, to her closest confidant, it was a truth she was not comfortable telling nor reliving. Her anxiety levels were through the roof. She could not sleep, eat, and every sound from passing strangers in the flat caused mild panic attacks as if she were expecting one of the attackers to burst through her door, or perhaps another stranger would have a go at her. Paired with all of this was trying to accept that she had taken a life. Everything put together made her physically sick, to which she would make frequent but stealthy trips to the bathroom to empty her stomach's contents, which was mainly empty. **

**She came to notice Mitchell's ever-growing worry because as days passed, he spent more time frequenting the bedroom to check on her. She knew that he was not stupid, and probably suspected something was off. Her lie was almost lazy – she tried her best to hide all of her obvious wounds, bruises, and scratch marks, but Mitchell was extremely observant. Plus, she didn't really make an attempt to cover them up. Mitchell tried his best to be patient, to convince her to visit a doctor, but she refused. Fear of retaliation and risking both of their safety is mainly what kept her from telling him what had happened. The bald man was still around; she could hear his voice through the paper thin walls now and then and it cemented her to her bed, wrapped tightly under the covers. It made her quiver in with fright.**

**After the fourth day of inactivity, Mitchell grew further concerned. It was clear that she wasn't doing well as her skin began to sink beneath her bones. She was small enough already, and it frightened him that he was noticing a rapid change. That, and she was hardly speaking to him, and all of this behavior began suddenly in a span of twelve hours. A few weeks passed with little progress. The days grew shorter and night came faster, and with that came the bitter cold that bit at their skin. He had been wracking his brain nonstop lately for ideas to get he and Evelyn out of here as soon as possible, but it was easier said than done. His priority was somewhere safe, moreso for Evelyn's part, as he was not entirely bothered by where they wound up as long as they got away from this hellish environment. At this point, he'd almost take anything if it weren't for the bothersome thought that nagged him regarding Atticarius. He had not forgotten about him, but simply put him on the back burner for the moment. His relationship with Evelyn was not flourishing. There were times where it began to get frustrating for him, but he would pull himself together and convinced himself that whatever was eating at Evelyn was not of her doing. She was keeping him at arm's length, and it was difficult not to wonder if it was something he did that was making her this way. Maybe she was afraid of him, but seeing as she has no real home to go to anymore got in the way of her packing up and leaving. But still, it wouldn't solve the riddle of her unexplainable injuries. It was a tough thought to bear, and the silence between them created unintentional and much unwanted tension. This only made room for overthinking, which Mitchell was starting to perfect.**

**After a small grocery run, Mitchell returned to Billy's grimy flat. Every day there were faces both new and familiar that passed through – he assumed this was some sort of half-way marker where the low lives could settle their drug deeds and whatever else and carry on with their lives. Some of Billy's flat mates seemed permanent fixtures, though he had noticed one particular flame-haired man had not been around for a while now. He supposed it wasn't unlike people from this like to go missing for days on end only to return when they felt necessary, for their fixes.**

**Once inside, he creaked open the bedroom door, but this time Evelyn was not in her usual spot. He swore she was burning a figure of herself in the mattress at this point. Frowning, he set down his bags and tried listening for any noise that might point him to where she may have gone. The last time she had gone missing, she came back a changed person. Just as he was about to make his way down the hall, she turned the corner and ran smack dab into him. He gently gripped her shoulders, in which she flinched, both of them taken by surprise. Taking advantage of the moment, he held her and took one step back to study her. Her usually beautiful green eyes lost their sparkle, seemed clouded, as they stared at him through redness and lifelessness. Something was wrong beyond what she was telling him, but he was unable to approach her. He felt as if she would break in half if he did. Although they lived in the same room together, it seemed as though he had not really seen her until now. He missed her and it made him ache.**

"**Any better?" He asked softly, examining the new looseness of her clothes. Her hair had now grown softly past her ears, a bit untidy from being bed-bound.**

**At his question, she nearly gave herself away by crumbling to the floor to sob, but she used whatever energy left in her to keep it together. "Just a bit," she croaked.**

**Unmoving, Mitchell continued to stare until she shuffled her way past him into her hiding space. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before following behind her and gently closing the door behind them. He watched as she perched herself onto the bed, cocooning herself in the blankets.**

"**I want you to try and eat something. You're skin and bone." As he began rifling through the bags, he saw Evelyn shake her head out of the corner of his eyes. **

"**I can't," she uttered, feeling the ride of a knot in her throat. She was suffering and she couldn't tell him. It was hard enough speaking simple words unrelated to her worries. His eyes were burning through her, and she did her best to not completely fall apart at that moment.**

**Mitchell didn't know what to do at this point, so he decided he would try to push. If he failed, he would have to find a new method to convince her to come back to life. In his hand was a small fruit tray and water, taking a seat beside her he put them in her lap.**

"**You have to, Evelyn. If you don't then we're going to the nearest doctor." At this, he reached over to gently trace some scabbed-over scratches on her face, and at his touch she instantly drew away. Somehow, the reaction frightened him as well.**

"**I'm sorry-" at this, Evelyn could no longer contain herself as she burst into a heap of tears. It had only been days but it felt as if she had been trapped within herself with her thoughts for months. Mitchell was unsure of what to do – any sort of affection only made her slither away from him, yet he wanted nothing more than to hold her and make her feel safe. Whatever it was that was truly eating at her, he wanted to know more than ever. The hardest part was fishing that information from her, but she was as delicate as a snowflake at this point.**

**Evelyn continued to sob into her blanket, feeling the all-too-familiar stirring of her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Mitchell put all doubt aside and lifted a corner of her blanket, joining at her side as he wrapped her tiny skeleton into his stronger arms. Both of them had been quite tense at first, but eventually relaxed into each other. Unknowingly to him, Mitchell could feel the slight stinging in his own eyes, knowing all too well now that she was suffering yet again. He held her shivering self tightly, one hand gently rubbing her back. He could feel the ridges of her spine, and it alarmed him. Though it took some time, she eventually calmed down. Mitchell tore a piece of his sleeve off and offered it to her as a makeshift tissue.**

**In the background, the loud beat of bassy music pulsed through the walls and multiple voices were pouring into the house. It seemed Billy would be hosting a party for the umpteenth time, and it would be another sleepless night for them. While this would normally be upsetting, Mitchell thought this may help give them time to themselves while everyone else tended to the other rooms.**

**Mitchell sighed slowly, resting his cheek on the top of Evelyn's fluffy head of new hair. "I know you don't want to tell me now…," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I understand that you can't. Just know that I won't pass judgement when you can. I never would." He spoke softly as if a normal volume would shatter her.**

**Evelyn dabbed at her sore nose, staring unmoving at the glowing full moon outside. While she did not know George personally, it made her think of him and a sudden wave of gratefulness washed over her. It was the second positive feeling she had had in days, only second to Mitchell's understanding and patience. It was a foreign feeling. She felt as if George had saved her life from afar. **

**They were both disturbed by their brief moment of peace when a young couple burst through their bedroom door, macking on each other as if the end of the world were coming and they'd never see each other again. It was apparent they didn't realize the room was occupied until they caught sight of Mitchell and Evelyn staring at them. The young punkish man sneered back at Mitchell, lifting his arms as if they were the ones disturbing his chance of scoring with the woman beside him. She was clinging to him like there was no tomorrow.**

"**You got a problem, mate? There's plenty of other rooms." The young man pushed, his words slurring together. He flicked his cigarette butt at him as it caught and burnt Mitchell's arm. He then dared to take a step toward Mitchell, though he instantly regretted his decisions as Mitchell was on his feet in a fleeting second with his hand pushed against the young man's neck. For a moment the young man faltered as his girl friend's eyes widened and a squeal escaped her lipstick-stained lips.**

"**Then perhaps it would be wise for you to get one of your own," Mitchell hissed, and briefly the young man began to challenge Mitchell as he shoved him back. Mitchell rushed at him, his eyes now flashing black and his teeth bared. The young man stopped dead in his tracks, his complexion paled. He grabbed the wrist of his partner as they evacuated the room. Mitchell took a long, deep breath as he slid back into his normal self. He turned and walked back toward Evelyn, hoping that he had not scared her, but she seemed relatively composed. The truth was, she hardly had any more energy to put any more emotion toward anything at the moment.**

"**Do you want to go for a walk?" Mitchell asked softly, and much to his surprise, she agreed. So much for them having the quiet to themselves, and it was bound to put only more stress on Evelyn.**

**They got Evelyn dressed in proper clothes for the chilly weather outside. For Mitchell, the cold never bothered him. As they approached the bedroom door, Evelyn caught Mitchell's hand before he could pry it open. This made him turn to her. She hesitated.**

"**Is there another way out?" She asked, her eyes unable to meet his for fear he would ask why. As much as he wanted to, he didn't press her.**

"**I think this is the only way, we're too far up to make a go out the window." He watched as she trembled briefly, feeling a kink in his own stomach that it wasn't the answer she wanted for some reason. She only nodded, and he opened the door to be greeted with the head aching blast of music and the stench of alcohol mixed with other fumes. Mitchell took Evelyn's hand and she kept close to him, trying her best to keep her eyes down at the floor, but her anxiety chose otherwise. She knew that he was here, she had heard him earlier. **

**Mitchell led her through the thick crowd of bodies, either moving in rhythm to the music of sprawled out in a stupor on the floor. He often wondered why he had ever accepted Billy's offer to stay here – he almost would have rather stayed in the streets until a better fit came around.**

**Halfway to the door to the outside world, Evelyn regrettably lifted her eyes and there, through the darkness of the room just illuminated by strobe lights, was the all-too-familiar dark eyes of the bald man who had only recently nearly taken her life. Her heart began to race and she was trapped in his gaze as if he had a grip on her. His eyes then shifted to Mitchell, who had now obviously sensed that another type of his own was in the crowd. Billy was beside the bald man, watching as well. She felt this was odd in the way he shared a mutual expression of hatred in the direction of Mitchell.**

**Nearly running into Mitchell at his sudden halt, she urged him to keep going as he scoped the room and made brief eye contact with the bald man before he resumed. Mitchell kept looking over his shoulder, but the crowd had mixed yet again and he lost sight of the vampire.**

**It felt like they'd been walking for eons before the waft of cool air and snow met their faces and the music was muffled behind them. Evelyn drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air again. The snow was coming down thickly, sprinkling their faces as it did. It felt refreshing, as if each snowflake, bit-by-bit, briefly washed away the anxiety.**

"**There was a vampire in there…highly unusual. Not to mention suspicious." Mitchell grumbled, heading in the direction of the downtown district area. The moon was so bright and low, it looked as if they could reach it just by walking.**

**Evelyn nuzzled into her scarf. "I know," she stated shortly, slowly regaining feeling in her body again.**

**Mitchell looked down at her suddenly; it wasn't quite the reaction he had expected from someone who wasn't the most educated with his like. "How?" **

**Evelyn realized that they were still holding hands. It was little, but it largely comforted her. She felt safe. "Maybe someday I'll tell you." There was a slight bit of sarcasm to her tone, which caused a tug at the corner of Mitchell's lips. Slowly but surely, she was progressing, but he could not pressure her. It was difficult knowing where the line was drawn as he was still left in the dark.**

**After a while of comfortable silence and walking, they came to the locked gate of a local park. The fence was a thick, dark brown and as tall as Mitchell. After a moment, Evelyn was getting antsy. The park closed hours ago, yet they were still standing here.**

"**What are we doing?" She questioned, trying to read Mitchell's thoughts. He bit his lip, seeming to contemplate something or other about this place.**

"**Breaking and entering." He said, smirking like a child. Evelyn studied his face, expecting him to say 'just kidding', but he did not.**

"**Oh, Mitchell…I don't think I have the energy to be an accomplice." She sighed, her body still dully aching from nearly a week ago. As she was protesting, he had already leapt over the fence as if it were his profession. Mitchell perched himself onto a dewy bench and peered over the ledge of the fence, holding out his arms for Evelyn to come to him.**

**At first she didn't budge. "Oh, come on. It's Christmas," he begged, which ultimately she could not turn down.**

**The words struck her as if someone had just shaken her from a reverie. Had she really been so disconnected from the world that she did not even know the time of year that it was? And how selfish that she should feel the world owed her an apology, when she was dragging her best friend down with her. Christmas was her favorite holiday, yet she hadn't even realized what month it was. Mitchell was her closest ally, yet she had failed to acknowledge him.**

**Stepping forward, she allowed Mitchell to lift her by the arms up and over the fence. When she turned around, her breath was taken from her: the park was quite large and every surface was littered with snow. The trees dazzled and glittered in the light from the light posts and were strung with gleaming white Christmas lights. The lack of noise pollution made it all the more peaceful. In the off-center grassy area was a relatively large-sized tent, which was a flickering glow from the inside from some sort of light source.**

"**I think somebody has already claimed this spot," Evelyn whispered, which only made Mitchell chuckle.**

**He shook his head and helped her down from the bench. "Yes…**_**we **_**have." His eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her confused expression. As they got closer, Evelyn came to notice a miniature Christmas tree had been planted at the side of the tent, all decked out with various colored lights. She looked up at him again, speechless for a moment.**

"**You did all of this?" She asked, her voice cracking.**

"**You could say that." He began to unzip the door to the tent and guided her with him. It was quite spacious – bigger inside than it looked from outside. The temperature was cozy. The floor was padded by several thick blankets, a small wooden coffee table centered with a lantern. To the left in the corner, a small three-foot Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights. Underneath it's branches was a small wrapped box. Evelyn was taken aback as a sudden wave of guilt enveloped her. Her eyes filled with tears, and she was surprised she was even able to produce them anymore.**

**Mitchell hesitated, uncertain. "Well, I can't lie and not say I had hoped for a better reaction."**

**Evelyn gently swatted at his arm, her free hand covering her face in mild embarrassment. "Are you kidding me, Mitchell? This is absolutely perfect," she choked.**

**Mitchell couldn't help but grin widely, taking her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "Thank you," she uttered, composing herself. "When did you do all of this?" **

**As they continued forward, Mitchell scrunched his face in thought. "This morning." He said, briefly pausing as he caught Evelyn's look of surprise. "I wasn't entirely confident you'd have been up for it, but I thought it would be worth a shot. And if not, I wouldn't have wasted much energy putting it together." He shrugged. "Plus I figured this would give us some breathing room away from that haggard excuse of a home."**

**Once they were in the warmth, Mitchell closed up the door and they nestled in. The enclosure was challenging for Mitchell as he internally struggled with the familiar urge of thirst. It had gotten worse with the last few weeks in sync with Evelyn keeping him at arm's length, which was almost a relief that he kept away from her. He wasn't sure why it suddenly surged, perhaps it was all of the change that was wearing on him, but there were several moments recently that were near-misses: the morning Evelyn had come back after having been gone missing briefly, the fresh blood was overbearing. Being in the flat was beginning to drive him mad with thirst unexpectedly. A few days after Evelyn returned, he had gone for a walk to familiarize himself with the area and stumbled across a rare group of destitute vampires who had made a kill and were feeding from a local villager. These types were neither friend nor foe so long as you did not confront them. Even he couldn't deny that there was an unusual rise in the number of vampires lately, and it was concerning that they were populating the streets at an alarming rate.**

**He hadn't realized how much he had zoned out until Evelyn called out his name.**

"**I'm sorry, I got sidetracked. What were you saying?" He asked sheepishly, leaning back on his hands.**

"**I was only wondering what was on your mind," she said, bringing her knees to her chin.**

**Mitchell paused, gazing in the dancing light in the lantern. "Nothing to worry you about right now. I have something for you." With that, he reached behind her, inhaling her scent rather shamelessly, and brought forth the box that was under the tree and placed it in front of Evelyn. Briefly, she stared at it before looking over at Mitchell. He lifted his eyebrows with anticipation. She gently smiled.**

"**You didn't have to get me anything," she whispered as she began to fiddle with the wrapping paper. Beneath it was a small handcrafted box. As she began to open it, a familiar sight fell into her hand: George's necklace. Mitchell watched her, knowing he would need to explain. A rush of images filled Evelyn's head: the red-haired and bald man, the impact of her head hitting the ground, the vulnerability as her life was being ripped from her….and then Mitchell's voice broke her from her trance. **

"**I found it in your things, the night you got back." He stated while she subconsciously rubbed her thumb along the grooves of the pendant. Mitchell faltered, trying his best to be mindful of her feelings. "This isn't exactly the best conversation to have on Christmas, but there's been an uprising and it's only going to get worse, and I know it's not the best defense, but it's something in case I'm not there if something were to happen. That, and I'd like it to be in the hands of somebody I trust." He took in a deep breath, allowing her some space and unsure of her reaction. She began to tremble, because his words hit close to home more than he knew, and perhaps he suspected what had happened.**

**After a few moments of silence, Mitchell reached over and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. She closed her eyes as he spoke. "I don't know what happened, and I don't want to force you to tell me if you're not ready. If you even want to tell me," he began, studying her face, "but I want you to know that I'm here for you and I always will be. I hate to see you suffer, especially alone."**

**Evelyn bit her lip, trying to contain herself as she gave a small nod and closed her hand around the necklace.**

**Mitchell leaned closer, "and especially because I love you too much."**

**With that, Evelyn collapsed into his arms and buried her face in his sweater and dropped all defenses. It felt as if the world was finally falling off of her shoulders, even if it was only for this moment. But it was perfect even in the veil of darkness that she was living. Never would she have ever thought that her life would have taken her down this road, and although it brought along all of the new evils with it, it brought her to Mitchell. She couldn't remember her life before him and did not wish to. All she wanted was to be frozen in time right now and hide from everything outside of it. She clung to the fabric of his sweater as if she would be torn away at any second.**

"**I love you more than anything," she wheezed, her body protesting as it wanted nothing more than to rest. She had been so tense recently that once she finally did allow herself to ease, the physical soreness was very apparent.**

**They spent a lot of time just holding each other in the peaceful stillness of the night, where they mutually feared that if either of them let go that they would be as apart as they had been for the last month. The snow continued to fall at a rapid pace and the lantern had gone out at some point. It was a short time after that in which Evelyn came to the decision that Mitchell deserved to be aware of her trauma – if anything, it was severely overdue, but she finally accepted the fact. She took her time, stumbling every now and again recalling the details, but Mitchell was with her and continued to hold her and love her as unconditionally as he always did. Eventually afterward, Evelyn fell into a deep and restful sleep for the first time in a long time, as Mitchell lay there mentally restless and plotting.**


	15. Rehabilitation

**Rehabilitation**

The night, whilst filled with a mixed bag of emotions, was one of the more harmonious ones they'd had in ages. A large part of that had to do with the fact that they finally had night where they slept in silence, aside from the natural white noise of being outside. Also, paired with that was the fact that Annie had given Mitchell's mobile a ring at three in the morning. She always forgot the time difference, but Mitchell couldn't deny that it brought his spirits up to hear from her. She sounded so indisputably happy that it filled him with warmth knowing she found her niche. Evelyn had been in a deep sleep during the conversation. Naturally, Annie had quizzed him on the matter of his relationship status, if Evelyn was still in his life, and everything else going on. He purposely left out the bit about Evelyn being attacked, and just told her that he or Evelyn could fill her in in just a few short months when Annie's wedding would take place, if it were within Evelyn's comfort to do so. However, he brought her up to speed with the other vampire clan, the house, their current situation…mostly everything. Annie was nearly bursting with excitement as she caught Mitchell up with life in Australia and her final wedding preparations – the invitations were in the post, but she couldn't wait to just invite them both over the phone before they arrived. She had explained how she had to force Cedric to participate in the planning or she would have gone bonkers, but Mitchell could already empathize with the man because Annie -as much as he loved her – could be a handful when she became overstimulated in any given situation. Mitchell knew better than to argue, and just verbally took her side, grinning through the phone.

Come the following morning, Mitchell had managed to fall asleep before the sun had risen. Evelyn blinked her tired eyes open, squinting at the morning light that was blaring against the tent wall. She looked to her left where Mitchell looked as if not a one thing in the world could be bothering him. One arm lay across his abdomen, and the other above his head in his mess of curls. She allowed herself to study him for as long as she was allowed, wallowing in admiration. He was a beautiful soul who had seen quadruple the life of any single human, but you couldn't tell if anyone had seen him as she was seeing him. Bringing the blanket up to her chin, she watched until he stirred. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten where he was as he awoke bewildered. Then he realized that he was only stuck in a nightmare where he kept seeing flashes of a car accident repeatedly in his head.

After a minute, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned to face Evelyn. She smiled softly, which he returned, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Do we have to go back?" She asked groggily, her voice cracking. Mitchell sighed, running his hand through his messy locks.

"I can't think of any other option…but we can stall as much as we can. It will get too cold for you out here." He pulled a corner of a blanket over his eyes – he was adapted to the sun, but it still stung first thing in the morning. "I talked to Annie last night, while you were asleep."

Evelyn had wondered what had been happening with Annie as she had not been in touch for some time now. Mitchell had only gotten sporadic texts now and again. "Oh? And how is miss Annie?" She inquired, bringing her knees up to her chin and bundling herself tighter. The birds outside were chattering with excitement, probably bathing in the uncommon sunlight.

"She is really, really happy. I've never heard her so happy." He folded back a part of the blanket so that he could see her, but still blocked the sun. "The wedding is in a few months in time for summer, so she's wanting us to come down."

Evelyn was slightly taken aback. "Us?" She echoed.

Mitchell smiled. "Of course, us. Annie knows all about you." He said in an almost teasing tone.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. "All _good_ things, I hope." She jabbed him in the ribs. Inside, she was screaming. It felt like an honor to be acknowledged by one of his closest friends. Maybe she was overreacting, but sometimes that was a personality trait of hers with certain situations.

Mitchell caught her hand, noticing the old wound that she had been covering with it on her neck. It was in the beginning stages of scarring. He brought his free hand over to it, only slightly tracing it with his thumb. Her pulse was fervent and it stung his salivary glands, much to his own disappointment. "There is not a bad bone in your body." He then ruffled her feathery hair.

Evelyn fell silent, studying his face. After a minute of silence, she placed her small hand against his cheek. "I want to know how you've been doing. I feel like I've neglected you."

This was always the tricky question, because Mitchell was never sure if honesty was the best policy. If he lied, he would have to continue lying or be found out. If he was truthful, there was always the chance of pushing people out of his life. As he weighed the odds, he realized how selfish he was. Evelyn had just spilled her guts to him not twelve hours prior, yet he was considering lying to her face. She had stuck with him this far, so what was he so afraid of this time?

He cleared his throat, his brows knitting together as he played with the fabric below him. "It's been a little rough…but this started a while back. It's not anything new per se; it's been a lifelong struggle. But particularly recently it has been a bit more severe." He tried his best to keep his voice neutral so as to not alarm her.

Evelyn sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. "We all have our demons," she muttered. "I don't imagine it's anything that will ever go away for you. However…you may have forgotten, but would another vampire living at Billy's have any effect on you?"

Mitchell had nearly forgotten about that; he had briefly caught a glimpse of said man last night. Suddenly his blood came to a boil – the man that had attacked Evelyn had been living under the same roof as them for some time, and he failed to acknowledge what he was. Not that it made all the difference, but it felt more personal.

Mitchell scratched his head. "I don't know that that would do it, but it's possible. Especially if he had the stench of blood on him." Truthfully, he was finding it difficult to be in enclosed spaces with Evelyn the most, such as now, but it was the wrong time to give her that information so he kept it to himself. It felt as though there was a constant swell in his mouth when he allowed himself to become even marginally lax, which caused a chain reaction throughout his body. It was almost like the human equivalence of dehydration, when your body is trying to urge you to hydrate, but times that by fifty. Just thinking about it was making him squirm.

"I could kill the man," he continued angrily, but only too late did he regret his words. Evelyn had a look of panic on her face as she violently shook her head at him. Mitchell quickly propped himself up as Evelyn began to heave and shake.

"N-no, you can't, M-Mitchell! If I k-knew that's how you'd react…I w-wouldn't have told you!" She squeaked, and instantly Mitchell felt colder than usual.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" He lied, wrapping her little self in his strong arms. He sure did mean it, but only wished he had thought it instead. "Oh god, Evelyn. I didn't mean to scare you."

Evelyn tried to labor her breathing as her body brought back the familiar ache of anxiety back. Her stomach had churned and it felt as though someone had injected ice into her veins. The dread that was them returning to the flat had already been heightened for her since the attack, but the last thing she wanted now was any more confrontation with the bald man who was still alive and sharing the flat with them. While she trusted Mitchell, she knew him to be well acquainted with the subject of revenge. It caused her a great deal of unease that he might approach the bald man and stir something up. Not only that, but she refused to risk Mitchell's safety, as confident and stubborn as he was that he could out-do the bald man.

She felt so broken. It was as if a chunk of her light had left a few weeks ago and was replaced of the constant reminder that she feared everything now. It was a horrible way to live, and not one she would wish upon anybody. Never would she had ever imagined herself to be this fragile, as if she could shatter in a millisecond's time.

Mitchell held her tight, mentally kicking himself. He didn't know where to go now; they really had nowhere else to turn if not back to Billy's. It would be such torture for the both of them, now that Mitchell was aware of everything, to live in the same quarters as that monster. If only Annie had lived closer, they could temporarily stay with her until they found something permanent. He had money saved that he could use, but it wouldn't be quite enough. He would have to find other means to provide for them.

A little while later, they wound up packing up their things and trudged back to Billy's flat. When they arrived at the door, Mitchell grabbed Evelyn's hand. He could already smell the bald man's cologne; he had become familiar with it over time, but now it struck a special note. Once past the threshold, they made a point to put their blinders on and go straight to their destination, but the flat was empty as far as they could see. The unusual quiet is what caught them off-guard, so it made the transition that much easier. But Mitchell knew they weren't so lucky as to have it this way for good – there were still the remains of people's belongings lying about.

When they reached their bedroom, Mitchell had a thought. He felt incredibly stupid for not thinking of it right off the bat. He turned to Evelyn, who stared back with a bit of ambivalence.

"This might be our only chance to get the hell out of here unnoticed." He stated simply. His back was turned against the door, his hand on the knob.

Evelyn scrambled for words, unsure of how they would go about this. "They'll see we've not come back after some time."

Mitchell shrugged and thrust out his arms. "We don't owe them anything – they hardly notice we're even here most of the time. Besides, this was only meant to be temporary. We've stayed far longer than either of us wanted." Evelyn had no argument to that.

"Let me just make a quick phone call." Mitchell headed to another room, Annie's number ready in hand. He dialed, feeling a small turn of his stomach. He hated asking for favors, especially financial ones, and furthermore to Annie who was just paying off a wedding. He was aware that Cedric was very well off, but it was found out by mistake. Luckily, Annie picked up.

"Annie, I have to ask a _huge_ favor of you. Don't be afraid to say no," he started, explaining their situation in detail. He had mentioned the tension between the bald man and them, and said that he couldn't get too into it without Evelyn being aware…but it seemed to get the point across. Not once did Annie even hesitate to agree to his offer, which was to lend he and Evelyn enough money to purchase a small place of their own and that Mitchell promised to pay her and Cedric back in due time. Mitchell thanked her thirty times and sped off back to the bedroom.

"Get everything settled?" Evelyn asked as he slid into the room. Everything was already put away; the house fire left them with almost nothing, and Mitchell tried to remain as frugal as possible. He knew that Evelyn would need to begin her treatments as soon as possible again, and he wanted to save his money for that.

"I did, now we have to make our escape before they all get back." He strapped his backpack over his shoulder. Evelyn was curious – he seemed to have everything sorted out within a matter of a few short minutes.

They freely abandoned the flat without looking back, made their way across town, and were on their way to freedom.


	16. Progression, Recession, Progression

Progression, Recession, Progression

A large pile of dust bunnies lay in a pile beside the bay window sill of the small cottage, threatening to disperse throughout the room at every whoosh of air that pushed it. Evelyn was sweeping up the remaining mess that was left behind for them in their new abode, while Mitchell was rearranging the furniture to suit their tastes better (this prompted more little hurricanes of dust, in which he received several unnoticed glared from Evelyn). It was two weeks after they had escaped the prison that was Billy's flat, and it was a beautiful afternoon to boot. For once, the sun decided to shine, though hordes of clouds dared to ruin it for them.

They were getting their bearings together and just starting to settle into the home. It wasn't big by any means, but as it was just the two of them, it was cozy enough. It was a small English cottage with stone exterior that mimicked the tones of ocean pebbles. There was a decent-sized family room, which they were currently spending all of their attention on, with original hardwood flooring which ran into a comfortable fireplace at the end of the room. Each room was an A-frame room, which exposed wooden beams, and these were some of the characteristics that helped them make the decision that this would be the one for them. The open concept made it appear larger than it was – the family room opened up into the kitchen, with wooden beams being the only separation between them. There were several windows which allowed natural light to pour in, and that was Evelyn's only must-have since they could not afford to be picky. They had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and the outside was shrouded in all sorts of greenery which gave them their privacy (Mitchell's must-have). It was a heavily wooded area, and smelled like pine even inside the house.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, Evelyn had begun the healing process. She and Mitchell spent nearly every night staying up late, talking and learning about one another. Included in these conversations was Evelyn's decision to try and move on and get over her trauma, but at her own pace. Her situation could have been a lot worse, even though she suffered. She tried her best not to allow herself to be afraid of the dark at night when she was alone, because she still saw visions of that dreadful day when she was in the in-between phase sleep and conscious. It often jolted her out of bed, prompting a routine visit to Mitchell's room.

Another newer issue, which she had _not_ divulged to Mitchell, was some excruciating pain in her back she was having. It came in phases, but it was crippling. Many times she would lose the ability to walk, and would play it off as being tired from all of the moving-in they were doing. She couldn't tell if she threw Mitchell of her scent, or if he was simply going along with it. He seemed to be keeping an extra eye on her, either way.

As she dumped the last of the dust into the garbage, the pain felt as if it were twisting her vertebrae all while trying to burn a hole into the small of her back. Her knees buckled, but she quickly recovered as she leaned up against the counter. However, she wasn't quick enough, because Mitchell saw this from across the room. Damn open concept, she thought.

"I knew you were hiding something from me. What's the matter?" He finished pushing the loveseat to where he wanted it in front of the fireplace and shuffled his way to her. He was around her well enough to know when she was trying to disguise a pained face.

Evelyn shook her head and made a gesture with her hand, swatting the air. "It's nothing, just a little back ache from being on my feet too long." She tried to play a convincing smile, but even she couldn't convince herself. Sometimes the pain was so radiant that it blurred her vision and she just wanted to beg for it to stop.

"It doesn't look like nothing. Come sit." He gently demanded, forcing the sweep out of her hand and bringing her to the couch. One of their first priorities after moving in had been to contact her doctor to resume her chemotherapy. She was set to go in two days, but Mitchell was wondering if it should have been made sooner.

She stared at the glowing embers in the fire, trying to pace her breathing even though it felt as if her lungs were only functioning at half capacity. Mitchell's eyes bore into her, as if he were demanding an explanation without verbalizing it.

"I think…I think something might be wrong," she said, her voice almost failing her. Mitchell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. They had, perhaps wrongfully, assumed that she would be okay to wait another couple of days for the doctor so they could settle in.

"D'you think we ought to make a trip to the hospital? Just to be safe." Mitchell suggested, but didn't know why he bothered asking as she was too stubborn to go. He had a feeling she was concerned about their finances, but they were comfortable until they would have to start paying Annie back. Even then, she urged them not to rush. Annie wasn't the only one who was grateful she was marrying a wealthy man, as selfish as it made Mitchell feel.

"No, that's not necessary. I think I'll take a hot shower and see if that helps at all." With that, she made her way to the bathroom, trying her best not to falter in her steps. Mitchell watched as she went, then turned his attention toward the patio door. He forgot that he had wanted to set out logs out in the sun so that they would dry after sitting in the melted snow this last week. As he prepared this outside, a few minutes passed as his neck snapped back at the sound of a distant thud. He froze for a moment, waiting on a reciprocating sound, but none came. He dropped the lump of wood he had been preparing to chop and half ran his way into the house.

"Evelyn?" He shouted, walking toward the hall that led to the master bathroom in his bedroom. He could hear water running, but as if it had only been left on and forgotten about. His brows furrowed as he pressed his ear against the bathroom door. He knocked after a moment. Nothing. His heart began to sink, but when he went to turn the handle, it had naturally been locked.

He swore under his breath, his eyes glancing about the door as if it would have another lock. He slammed his body against the wooden door, and in one attempt did it fly open against the wall behind it, taking a chunk of siding as well. His eyes scanned the room almost too fast as it swirled with steam. They landed on Evelyn drooped in the tub, unconscious. Hastily, he switched the steaming water off and reached over to gently move her face. There was a small amount of blood that ran against the bathtub wall where she had apparently hit her head. Just as he was scurrying to grab a towel, she began to move, but only barely. A small groan came from her lips as she drunkenly reached for the sore spot on her head.

"It's okay, darlin'. I've got you." Inside, Mitchell had not panicked in this way before. Something about this incident was new and afresh and the smell of blood mixed with the heat was flooding his nostrils. He could feel his eyes dilating, trying his hardest to concentrate on the problem at hand. Evelyn groaned in protest as he picked her up into his arms in one swoop, and wrapped her nude, bony body in a towel. The blood was now palpable, and he found his mouth had subconsciously moved within centimeters of his head. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, veins pulsing, heart racing, and for a split second he felt his strength give on him before snapping back to reality.

It took him a second to compose himself, feeling the weight of Evelyn's head fall onto his shoulder. He bit his lip as if it were the only thing stopping him from feeding. Each day it grew harder and harder when he thought it was getting easier. Inside the bedroom, he made a vague attempt to dress her in one of her robes so as to keep her modesty before they would drive to the hospital.

It took a couple of hours from the time they arrived until Evelyn had been admitted and in a room. Mitchell found himself in a familiar spot – the waiting room – as he had pulled several chairs together to lay on his back and watch the news. None of the information registered as he anxiously anticipated when he would receive an update. They were becoming well-acquainted with hospitals within a fifty-mile radius, but for him it felt like he was back at work, with George. He mentally recalled when they would purposefully leave their boss's personal bathroom unclean for weeks at a time, only for it to begin collecting a variety of bugs and hospital germs. Or when they would lie and cover for each other when one of them would be in trouble for god knows what. The memory made him smile ear to ear, but sad simultaneously.

Time passed, visitors came and went, and the news channel was recycling information before Mitchell heard anything. He was just on his way back in with a large cup of coffee when he saw a physician heading in his direction, his eyesight not dropping from Mitchell's faced told him he was looking for him.

"Mr. Mitchell?" The doctor inquired, his finger dog-eared one of many papers in his hands.

"Yes." Mitchell raised his eyebrows expectantly. It took him a moment to realize that this doctor's badge labeled him as a surgeon.

"Yes, we've reviewed Ms. O'Gorman's past records, and after careful consideration of the events in which occurred this evening, we're preparing her for an emergency surgery." Mitchell's face must have given him away, because Dr. Fay quickly continued. He spoke in slow rhythms as if Mitchell were in fourth grade, but it was probably for the best because Mitchell's mind was going one hundred miles an hour. "You see, the tumor that was being treated through chemotherapy had grown in some size since she had a lapse in treatment. Without getting too technical and to avoid confusion, what this did is it caused the mass to rupture due to its inability to grow outside of its habitat within her body. Anyhow, soon after surgery we'll want to monitor her overnight in the intensive care unit."

Mitchell blinked, trying to analyze all of this new information. "So…what are the risks?" He asked, sipping the piping hot coffee.

Dr. Fay motioned with his head as if there wasn't a clear answer. "I feel that she will pull through, but the risk of her bleeding to d…," he stumbled. "…the risk of her bleeding too much internally is what we'd like to be wary of. We just want to make sure she is comfortable through the night. That, and she has a bit of a concussion from the fall. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He gave a friendly nod and swept off toward Evelyn's room.

Mitchell swallowed a small lump in his throat, feeling as if he had just been presented with the information as quickly as he would have at an auction where they talk to fast you can barely keep up. Regardless, he knew there was nothing that he could do but wait, so wait he did. In the meantime, he acknowledged the fact that he would not be getting any sleep tonight, so he thought it due time for an Annie chat. It was still bizarre to him that it would be nearly two in the afternoon over there.

"What've you done this time?" Annie answered speculatively.

Mitchell laughed, "what do you mean? Rude."

"You never bloody call me twice within three weeks, Mitchell. Something must have happened. Did you knock somebody up?" She teased, though had anybody else been listening they would have found her to be serious. He could hear the faint sound of dishes rattling in the background. She was making tea. He smiled at that.

He laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Not yet. I can hardly seduce somebody within ten feet of me." He snickered, idly playing with a rip at the knee of his pants.

Annie sighed loudly. It was evident this was her concerned sigh.

"I don't know what it is, Annie." He struggled for words, feeling both embarrassed and trapped. "It comes in waves and it seems to get worse each time. I don't know how I can share such a small amount of space with somebody I care for tremendously without…" he let out a breath, trying to relax his muscles.

Annie was quiet for a moment longer than made him comfortable. "I don't know what to say anymore, Mitchell. It's so hard to be so far away and feel helpless. You just have to give it your best shot, what did you do last time it got bad?"

Mitchell hesitated. "Nothing I would share with you. I'll figure it out." He brushed it off, wanting to only change the subject. He succeeded as he filled Annie in with recent events.

"Oh my god…so the doctor didn't even give you an idea of what the outcome might be? What a twat." She stated matter-of-factly. This made Mitchell chuckle – some things never changed.

"No, unfortunately not." He paused, running his free hand through his tangle of curls. "I miss you, Annie. When do we get to visit you 'down undah'?"

Annie grinned through the phone; any excuse to discuss the wedding. "Invitations will be going out soon, I just have to confirm with the calligrapher that everything looks perfect." She was nearly squealing at the thought of it.

Mitchell playfully rolled his eyes – Annie's life goal was basically to get married, so he had little room to tease. She had finally found her happiness. He was still trying to get to the point of contentedness.

"I'd really like you to bring Evelyn with you, Mitchell. I'd love to meet her. She sounds lovely." There were more dishes clanking in the background and the vague sound of the television.

Mitchell nodded, as if she could see him. "We'll try our best," he promised.

A few minutes of chatter remained before Annie had to retreat for a grocery run with Cedric. They said their goodbyes and as per usual, she made Mitchell promise he would stay in contact more often. It was eerily quiet in the hospital, as if he were the only visitor here. The news was babbling on in the background, but his thoughts drowned it out. What if this were Evelyn's last day alive? What if she did bleed to death, which is the direction which Dr. Fay was taking the conversation? Unfortunately, his mind automatically assumed to worse in situations like these. He cursed himself for having allowed her out of his sight when he very well knew she was struggling, but he also knew he couldn't hover. He paced and paced, as if it would bring the time faster. He sat, he stood, he wandered…then finally sat once more. Shifting in his seat onto his back, he figured it would do him no good to overthink and bring on more anxiety, so we attempted to get some rest.

It felt like just minutes had passed when Mitchell felt a hand on his shoulder. He parted his eyes and sat up too fast, feeling a rush of blood to his head as he did so. Once he gathered himself, he could see Dr. Fay standing before him.

"How is she?" He asked groggily. He hadn't expected to actually fall asleep. He wondered how long he had been out for.

Dr. Fay had heavy bags under his eyes. "She's stable. If you want to follow me, I can fill you in on everything." He held his arm out toward the door, and Mitchell followed him to Evelyn's isolated room. Stepping around the corner, she looked so peaceful lying there. She almost could be dead, which churned his stomach. A bandage had been wrapped around her head, enclosing the brown hair beneath it that was rapidly growing in. An oxygen mask was fitted over her face, and she had been moved to lay on her side so as to not put pressure on her back.

Mitchell sat at the chair nearest her bed, not taking his eyes off of her as Dr. Fay sat across him. He was flipping through Evelyn's medical chart, which grew thicker by the visit.

"Okay. She should be waking up in the next hour or so, once the anesthesia has worn off." Dr. Fay dog eared a couple of pages. "We were able to remove the remnants of the tumor and control the bleeding. It is my belief that had it been five to ten minutes later, she may not have made it. So, Mr. Mitchell, we owe much to you for being so punctual and getting her here immediately." His voice was barely above a whisper now. Mitchell's head was spinning.

"That's…a great relief. Honestly, I wasn't sure what was going to happen." Mitchell's voice cracked, and for a brief period he felt the threat of tears sting at his eyes. He had to look away.

Dr. Fay cleared his throat as if it were going to break the tension. "Now, upon reading Dr. McNally's notes from several months ago, he was wanting her to have chemotherapy for a few months before the planned surgery. Given that she had a two-month gap in treatment and the surgery happening prematurely, we will have to keep a careful eye on things to be sure she progresses healthily. In a way, things happened in order but a bit quicker than we would have liked. I don't expect there to be any serious consequences. Also, her concussion was minor, though we had to insert about ten stitches to close the wound. Nothing too serious."

Mitchell drew his eyes back over to Evelyn's still body; it was as if he were making sure she was still breathing. When he could see the gentle rise and fall of her rib cage, he cleared his throat. "So, what does that mean for the cancer? Does that mean it's gone?"

Dr. Fay paused, raising his eyebrows in thought. "Well, I think it's safe to say right now, as long as it stays this way, she would be considered in partial remission. It's partial because she's likely to still feel it's effects. It won't be considered complete remission until she no longer experiences those symptoms. We also will need to see her regularly – at this stage, it's very important she not miss any appointments because there's always that small chance of the cancer having spread. It may not have developed yet, but we are cautiously optimistic she will be just fine."

Mitchell released a long, silent breath he didn't realize he had been holding in. Dr. Fay gave him a half smile, closing the folder. "Any other questions while I'm here?"

"I don't think so. Thank you, Dr. Fay. I hope we have the pleasure of seeing you again soon. Well, as routine." Mitchell smiled, reaching out as they firmly shook hands.

Dr. Fay gave Mitchell a pat on the shoulder before exiting the room. After a few moments of silence to himself, allowing everything to sink in, Mitchell rotated his chair so that he was facing the bed and leaned over to hold one of her hands. It warmed his skin. His thumb lightly caressed her hand around the I.V. tube.

While he waited for her to gain consciousness again, he laid his top half across the bed and kept her hand close. The scent of blood was palpable…had he been in a different state of mind, he wouldn't have allowed himself this close to her.

But he loved her, God, he loved her, more than there were stars in the sky and waves in the sea, and he could not lose her.

Evelyn lay there silently, her eyes just now adjusting to the light flooding the room. Her senses slowly woke with her as she tried remembering where she was. It didn't take long, though – there was a nurse at the foot of her bed, scribbling something on the dry erase board perched on the wall. Evelyn's eyes found the mop of familiar curly hair beside her, and the sound of his all-too-human breath escaping his slightly parted lips. He still had her hand secure in his. She looked down at all of the tubes connecting her to the machinery. The ache in her back was intensifying, but this time it felt different. Her face contorted a bit, wondering what had actually happened.

The nurse, whose name was doodled on the board as 'Eileen', smiled pleasantly when they made eye contact. She brought a lavender-painted finger to her lips indicating that she would try her best to work around Mitchell. She came to the side of the bed to take Evelyn's vitals.

"Doctor said he was up all night worried sick about you. Said he got maybe a half an hour of sleep. Each time he went to give him an update, he was awake." Her thin lips curled at one side, gently poking and prodding where necessary. "I'm going to prop you up just a bit here." Evelyn felt herself slide upward to expose her back a bit more. Her hips felt numb from being in one position all night.

Evelyn felt a small pool of tears collect in her eyes, but she tried her best not to let them fall while she gazed at Mitchell's sleeping face. Together, they had been through hell and back in just a few short six months. In fact, she felt that he put up with her more than the other way around, even though he technically had the more complicated life. It felt strange that she knew the secret of Mitchell whilst the nurse in the room hadn't a clue.

"That sounds like him," Evelyn whispered, her voice raw and muted, smiling sheepishly.

"You're lucky to have him. I can't tell you how many stories I have where patients had no family or friends to be here with them. What's worse is some of them pass alone." Eileen motioned that she was needing Evelyn's hand which was still glued beneath Mitchell, slowly sliding it out of his grip. The tubes easily removed themselves from beneath her skin.

Evelyn grinned; she was all too lucky. She started out in a new place knowing nobody within a two hundred-mile radius, and one of the first people she meets gives her the greatest companionship.

Mitchell stirred briefly, but did not rise just yet.

Eileen carefully folded the gown up to Evelyn's shoulders, inspecting the large incision. As she was doing this, still keeping her voice low, she explained to Evelyn all what had to be done. It caught her by surprise; she had a nagging idea that it was indeed related to the tumor, but never would she have guessed it could potentially burst. The thought made her a bit queasy.

"Not bad, miss Evelyn. It's going to look rough for a while, but should heal nicely." Eileen said softly, lightly inspecting the incision with gloved hands. "We've given you a prescription for the pain, and doctor would like to see you for a follow-up in about a week or so for this and your head as well. Try to rest and don't do any heavy lifting, staining, or anything that may irritate the incision."

Evelyn nodded compliantly, and as she slowly began to sit up, Mitchell opened his eyes part way. The light was blinding and reflected off of all the white interior, making it that much more sensitive on his eyes. He had indented lines from the sheet on his face, which made Evelyn snicker.

"Morning, sunshine." She said softly, resting on one elbow. The way Mitchell's face gleefully smiled when he noticed she was awake and moving was enough to flood her stomach with butterflies. He reached over and cupped his hand around the back of her head, planting a soft kiss on her cheek and nuzzling her neck for a second longer. His cautious smile was contagious as he examined her face, as if to be sure nothing else had happened after he had fallen asleep.

Mitchell rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not letting you out of my sight for the rest of my life." He smirked, his eyes crinkling.

She smiled, blushing just slightly. "That's an awfully long time to promise for," she teased. At some point Eileen had slipped out of the room.

"I love you." He whispered; his face looked a bit pained. He wouldn't admit this to her, but he was almost certain he was going to lose her in the night.

"And I love you. Always."

He leaned in and lightly kissed her smooth lips, his fingers resting at the nape of her neck where the tips of her hair had grown to. He couldn't help himself – he had been wanting to kiss her again for ages, but there hadn't been an appropriate time to do so.

To their disappointment, however, they had to be broken up when someone knocked on the door. They reluctantly parted ways just as Dr. Fay walked in. He repeated the same instructions that nurse Eileen had, and informed them that so long as Evelyn did nothing to strain herself, she would be free to go back home. He felt that her head injury wasn't serious enough to have to keep her another night. Once they finished all of the paperwork they needed, Mitchell called themselves a cab. It was another gloomy, chilly day.

It didn't take long for them to arrive back home, and what a wonderful feeling it was to have such a place to call home.


	17. Cheers

**Cheers**

"Okay, just hold still and it will be over in a pinch. A few of these may tug a bit." Dr. Fay grasped the staples in Evelyn's back, removing them slowly and one at a time. Evelyn winced, squeezing Mitchell's hand a bit harder than intended.

They were at her follow up appointment, and she had already gotten her head stitches removed. That part was painless, but the staples in her back freaked her out. She pictured her skin folding open at every tug. Mitchell stood beside her, holding her hand and pinning her gown up so Dr. Fay could do his procedure. He tried to avert eyes from the incision, but it was fascinating at how fast it was beginning to heal.

"Just a few more…" Dr. Faye mumbled, visibly trying his best to work around the skin so as not to hurt her. Considering these were relatively thicker than just sutures, there was bound to be some discomfort. Evelyn tried to think of something else to distract herself – the speck of dirt on the floor, the birds flying outside, but she was too conscious of what was happening behind her.

It was over before she knew it, tilting her head to peek over her shoulder. "Do I at least have a nice battle wound?"

Mitchell smirked and shook his head. "Only you, Evie," he muttered, placing her gown back into place after Dr. Fay began washing his hands.

"It will fade about fifty percent, but unfortunately you will likely still have the scarring." Dr. Fay walked back over to them, looking down at Evelyn. "Now I _do_ have some wonderful news. I mentioned this to Mr. Mitchell here the night of your surgery, but we received your blood work back and can happily relay that it's safe to consider you in partial remission." Even Dr. Fay couldn't help himself but grin, and he dealt with this often.

Mitchell forgot that this detail was left out, between he and the staff, so as to not raise too high of hopes for Evelyn before they knew. Evelyn's brain scrambled, her lip trembled. She was unsure on how to react – she felt she could do cartwheels, curl up on the floor and sob, and scream all at once. Instead, she buried her face in her hands and began to tremble. It felt like a dream. She never thought she would hear the words after living trapped in her sick body.

Dr. Fay gently rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. Mitchell had to turn away for a moment to dry his eyes, playing it cool as he often did. Maybe, just maybe, she would begin to have good luck again. The last several months brought on a variety of challenges, but they made it to the finish line, at least for now.

Grabbing one of Evelyn's hands, Dr. Fay sandwiched it between both of his. "I want you to celebrate. Celebrate many more years that you have to live your life. In fact, I demand it, for all of us here." He gestured between the three of them. "Evelyn, I've known you for a very short time, but rarely do I choose to take on cancer patients. Strange, I know, to hear that from a surgeon, but I only wish to take on cases which I know I can succeed. It sounds very selfish, and in fact, it _is_ very selfish…but I've seen enough loss in thirty years and the majority of that was due to cancer." His eyes had a friendliness to them, and suddenly Evelyn felt that she owed him her life. Well, it wasn't actually far from the truth. "I don't like failing, but most of all failing those I'm supposed to heal is the worst feeling in the world."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Dr. Fay. I don't think either of us could do what you do, or anything near it. I probably wouldn't be having this conversation with you had it not been for you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving me the best news that I've heard in years," she said, leaning forward to give him a tight hug. He smiled, then afterwards stood and turned to Mitchell.

"Mr. Mitchell," he began, his face more relaxed and warm than Mitchell remembered over a week ago. "It's been a pleasure, but I know I'll be seeing you in the future." He gave Mitchell a wink, in which Mitchell grinned like a fool, returning a strong handshake.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll definitely be seeing you." Dr. Fay gave them one final nod before exiting the room. Though the journey wasn't over just yet, it felt like such a big victory.

Mitchell swooped in front of Evelyn and playfully pinched at her cheeks, his eyes all squinty with elation. Evelyn felt that scream rising in her chest, but instead she squeezed Mitchell as hard as her little self could. He kissed her face a thousand times, and she flushed.

"I'll let you get dressed now," he couldn't even keep the excitement out of his voice for that, turning his back to go back to the hall.

"It isn't like you haven't seen everything already, Mitchell," Evelyn muttered mockingly behind his back, and she could have sworn his walk quickened.

The fresh air somehow felt new to her now. It seemed crisper, crisper, less polluted, just as she was. On the drive back home, she let the window of the cab stay down, even though it was quite frigid. Naturally, Mitchell wasn't bothered since this was closer to his regular temperature anyways, but she caught a few nasty looks from their driver. The sun had decided to finally come out from hiding, but naturally it was late afternoon at this point.

They pulled up to the house, paid the driver, and Mitchell helped her to the door. It was the first day since the hospital that she could walk crutch-free, and she hadn't realized how used to them she had gotten. Mitchell held the door open for her, and when she walked in, she gasped.

"Oh, Mitchell…" she said breathlessly. She didn't know when he had the time to do this without her knowing it, but there were dozens of flowers placed strategically throughout the space. In the dining area sat the square dining table with a few small candles, dishes set out, two bottles of red wine, and a vase full of fresh roses in the middle. It wasn't until she stepped further in that she smelled something cooking. Her hands had subconsciously rested on her cheeks. This explained why he was adamant they leave out the back door today. Sneaky bastard.

Mitchell closed the door behind him and grinned a toothy grin, rushing over to the oven to be certain he didn't actually burn the food. When he saw that it was still in one piece, he returned back to Evelyn.

"Shall we try this again?" He asked with a note of sarcasm in his voice.

Evelyn let out a heavy laugh; she had been holding her breath. "As long as there are no men delivering suspicious packages with bombs in them, then…yes."

He chuckled. He knew that they were safe right now, and would try to sustain that as long as possible. No vampires, no cancer…just them. He hadn't forgotten about Atticarius and what he pictured him doing to him when she wasn't around, but he would relish in the quiet while they had it.

"Oh, I nearly forgot…" He walked over to the built-in shelving behind the fireplace to where he had set up George's old stereo system, and pressed play. A flow of soft acoustic music filled the room.

Evelyn watched him in awe. "Have you _always_ been this much of a romantic?" Her eyes had slit in false doubt. He was so easy to tease.

Mitchell made a running start and slid in his socks all the way across the floor until he nearly ran her over, gently grabbing her arms as he did so. She shrieked, suddenly imagining another back injury. He took her hands and smoothly forced her into a twirl, which made her throw her head back in laughter.

"Oh my God, Mitchell, I think you're just a natural-born cheeseball," she laughed as he pulled her back to him, locking her into a tight embrace, swaying.

He rested his forehead against hers again, his vision doubling from the close proximity. "Annie didn't call me old-fashioned for nothing. And anyway, it's my duty to prove chivalry isn't dead."

Evelyn looked far into his vibrant golden brown eyes. He seemed so human. "I thought you were supposed to be a cold-blooded murderer out for my blood? Who knew vampires had such a light side."

Mitchell's lips twitched in a half smile. "Who says I'm not just trying to seduce you?" His eyebrow perked with curiosity.

Evelyn paused, thinking. "Well, you're doing a fine job of it," she retorted, unable to come back with anything better. It was true, though – all her defenses dropped around Mitchell. No matter the situation, he had an air about him that just was able to crumble the walls she put up with anybody else. It could have been disastrous had he turned out to be an actual cold-blooded murderer.

Before Mitchell could say anything more, the timer began obnoxiously beeping behind them. He grudgingly released himself from her and began his work. He pulled out several pans of food, which Evelyn didn't think could ever fit in the oven. She propped her elbows on the middle island and, with a wide smile on her face, watched as he placed each pan in front of her.

"Oooooo." The aromas filled her nostrils, which caused her stomach to growl loudly in protest. "So…chef John, care to elaborate on your dishes?"

Mitchell cleared his throat and exaggerated his hand movements to mimic that of a famous Italian chef. He even nailed down the accent. "We have some-uh leetle-uh…pasta," he paused, trying not to break face. "And these over here ees my finest-uh garleec bread…slightly burnt. Over here ees ze, uh…oh, what the shit, I don't know. See, I'm not as romantic as you thought. I had a lot of help from Annie…again. She's basically a pro, getting married and all."

Evelyn was cracking up, shaking her head. Mitchell began mixing, cutting, and preparing their plates. Once she was settled at the table, he grabbed one of the bottles of wine. "This, however, was all me," he smiled.

"Not one, but _two _bottles. Are you trying to get me in trouble?" She jokingly inquired, watching him.

Mitchell worked on unscrewing the cork from the bottle, "that depends…how much trouble do you plan on getting in?"

Evelyn's face was suddenly quite warm, and it wasn't from the candles in front of her as she focused her attention back on her plate. Behind her, Mitchell was biting his lip to prevent from laughing at her expression. He poured each of them a glass, a rather large glass by wine standards, and brought them to the table with him.

They ate in a comfortable silence. It was nice to be able to not feel awkward when they weren't having a discussion – it made that bond all the more deep. They made comments here and there about how wonderful the food was and there were several thank-yous on Evelyn's part. She was already beginning to feel a slight buzz from the wine. Considering she was never able to drink for a long time, it wouldn't take much.

They cleaned up and refilled their glasses, perching themselves on the shaggy rug in front of the fireplace. Mitchell rested his back against the bottom half of the couch, while Evelyn sat cross-legged and gazed at the heat before her. He was already on his third glass of wine. He turned his head just slightly, watching the way the light from the fire danced and smoothed along Evelyn's soft features.

"Thank you for today," she whispered. "For everything. For saving my life a hundred times more than you should have to." She could feel a slight lag on her tongue when she spoke…the wine was really beginning to settle in her bloodstream.

Mitchell frowned, gently shaking his head, his eyes a little bit slow to follow. "That's not necessary. It's just the things you do for someone you love."

Evelyn's trance broke from the fire only to find he was staring intently at her. His eyes were slightly droopy from the wine, he had day's worth of facial hair and his hair was a little more unkempt than usual…yet, he was certainly the most handsome and beautiful creature she ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but the way the top of his shirt lay unbuttoned at the top, exposing more chest and hair than usual was making her have a bit of a heart murmur. Maybe she ought to slow it down a bit. Mitchell had a parted, relaxed smile on his face. He was smoldering and he knew it.

He studied her face, taking another gulp of wine. The sensation of his body relaxing and feeling weightless was soothing. It was nice to not feel so tense. Evelyn finished her second glass before Mitchell got up and brought back the next bottle. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, to which he winked in return.

"Feeling a little lushy, are we?" She smiled lazily, and a new glass was poured. She was going to have the worst headache of her life by the morning.

"I think we owe it to ourselves to get a little _lushy_." He was beginning to slur, which of course caused Evelyn to giggle. She didn't know, again, if it was the alcoho, but she swore that many of his retorts had some sort of sensual undertone to them. "I think we should play a game. It's cliché…but what else are we gonna do?" He asked, sipping at his drink now.

"I'm scared to ask…but I assume this would be a drinking game?" Her finger traced the rim of her glass.

Mitchell made a clicking sound with his tongue and pointed his finger at her. "Eeeexactly. It's called 'Never Have I Ever?', which you likely played with your high school or college boyfriends shortly before Seven Seconds In Hell…I mean, Heaven."

"Excuse me, why is it boyfriend_s_? Why is it plural? And I'll have you know, I have played _neither_ game in all my life. But I know what this one is." She sighed, shaking her head. What a night it was going to be. A game that you spill your guts into, if you were honest (which she was by default), mixed with alcohol. At this point, she figured she may as well drink to the point of forgetting everything ever said this night.

"Good. So, I make a statement of something I've never done and if you _have_ done it, you drink. If you haven't done it, then I have to drink. Then it's your turn to ask. If neither of us have done it, we both drink. At least that's how I've played it. In fact, you have the honor of going first." He bowed to her, sitting with his back straight now. Clearly, he was a rather competitive chap.

Evelyn sighed in thought, tapping her glass with her finger as she did so. There were many routes she could take with this, but it would be best to keep it light if she wanted the same in return. "Hmmm. Okay…never have I ever _not _stayed up all night to finish a favorite book. I've done it more times than I can count, personally."

Mitchell glared at her from across the rug. "Really? We'll be here all night if we're starting it out this slow." He playfully rolled his eyes, but he didn't drink. Evelyn took a sip, and looked at him with surprise on her face.

"Never?! You've had how many years to do this. Are you even human?" It was a rhetorical question, but nevertheless Mitchell shook his head drunkenly. His hair was beginning to fall into his face.

His eyes narrowed in thought, his eyes searching the ceiling for clues. "Never have I ever…gotten so pissed that I didn't remember an iota of the night previously."

They both tipped their glasses.

"That's what I'm about to do right now," Evelyn muttered, and Mitchell laughed. "Never have I ever injured myself while trying to impress someone I was interested in."

Mitchell did not drink, so Evelyn had to. She stared at him incredulously as she did.

"Are you saying your graceful fall in the shower wasn't on purpose?" He prodded, yet again bringing a flush to her cheeks. She tried to forget that that ever happened, and that Mitchell had had a full view of her nude body without her being aware of it.

Mitchell threw his head back in thought, his eyes getting heavier. The music continued on next to them. "Never have I everrrr…went streaking." He peeked one eye over at her, and was disappointed that she didn't move. "_What?!_ And you ask if I've ever lived. You don't know what you're missing." He took a swig, his voice cracking.

"Obviously we prioritize our interests a little differently. And anyway, that's cheating because you _have_ done it." She grinned. He shrugged, pretending not to notice.

He stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly got up. "I think we need something better. This is leaving a bad taste in my mouth." Evelyn watched as he rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out an unopened bottle of rum. He looked over at her deviously. "Shots."

Evelyn put her face in her hands. "Oh, no. I'm a goner." She got up to go to the bathroom before they would start again, and wound up having to use the support of the wall to reach her destination. This would not be good later.

Once they were back on the rug, shot glasses in hand, Mitchell nodded for her to go. Now that they were on the heavier stuff, she would need to really dive into Mitchell's personality. "Never have I ever…ever…_ever_…been arrested."

He took a shot. "One of the worst days of my life, actually. Almost exposed the vampire community to the rest of the world, but…was saved by an old friend." The memory didn't upset him anymore, because it was another one he shared with George, as disappointed as George was with him at that time. "You're a goody two-shoes…I need to sort you out." He leaned forward, closer to her, his eyes trying to read her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Never…have I ever…" His eyes narrowed. "…been with someone I absolutely _hated_."

"Define 'been with'," she said before she would even reach for the rum.

Mitchell gave her a look. "You know what I mean." There was a hint of provocativeness in his tone.

To his surprise, and perhaps hers too, she filled her glass. It seared down her throat – she couldn't recall the last time she had this kind of liquor. His eyes widened, and he smiled a crooked smile. "We may as well call it a night now that I've cracked you."

"You can't tell me that as long as you've been around that you've never had that regret," she suggested, feeling a little bit embarrassed by her confession and that she was alone in it. This was probably only the beginning, but she was a good sport.

Mitchell shook his head, smirking.

Evelyn let out a deep sigh, trying to think of a way she could avenge herself. She felt immensely light at the moment. "Never have I ever 'been with' someone who I absolutely loved."

Neither of them budged, and it was almost uncomfortably silent. "How? You can't be in the middle." She said.

It was getting more difficult to even sit up now.

Mitchell shrugged, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. Oddly, he wasn't able to make eye contact with her. "Just haven't. I've had enjoyable experiences…but I wouldn't say I hated or loved the people."

Evelyn's face fell a bit. She didn't understand how, given the blessing of a rather extended life, he hadn't managed to find someone to love intimately. She knew that at some point he had thought he was in love, but…

"Never have I ever wanted to kiss somebody so badly as I do right now." She didn't see that his eyes were cutting through hers. At this point, she wasn't sure if the game was still valid, but either way she did not drink.

What she did know was that Mitchell quickly closed the space between them, his hand grasping the back of her neck as he smashed his mouth against hers. She did not hold back, and the alcohol was making her dizzy and hot. They drank each other in; the roughness of his facial hair, how sweet he tasted…her perfect lips and slightly clammy skin. There was so much passion between them that when they finally parted, they were both gasping. In that pause, Evelyn felt an enormous twirl in her stomach. It made her legs weaker than they already were, and she felt more vulnerable than she had in a while.

Mitchell leaned in again, this time kissing her much more delicately. He was trying to pace himself, because all of his senses were heightened and he felt so close to drawing blood. It was, literally, right under his nose. But he was under control, almost playing with the idea that he could keep it that way. There was an unsaid air about them on where they were going with this.

Hesitantly, and parting his eyes half way, he pushed his body against hers so that they were lying down. Each time he took it a step further, he would let up to confirm that Evelyn was still with him. Her face was anxious, but relaxed all the same.

"I love you," Mitchell whispered, their noses barely touching. The scent of alcohol was potent on both of them.

Evelyn pulled him to her. "I love you, too." Her voice dared to waver on her.

Mitchell closed the gap again and kissed her passionately, the sensation of love and lust, want and need circulating through his body. She took both hands and combed them through his messy hair. Their bodies were just barely grazing one another, which was a result of Mitchell using caution.

A few minutes passed like that, and Mitchell wrapped his arms behind her back, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he picked her up and made his way toward his bedroom. It was a bit of an obstacle – not only was he intoxicated, and also in a bit of a hurry, but he couldn't see where he was going.

After some stumbles and bumps here and there – while still somehow staying aware of Evelyn's back that was still a bit tender – he did manage to trip his way into the bedroom. Luckily for the both of them, they tripped over the side of the bed. The moonlight was beaming through the high window onto the floor in front of the bed, contrasting them against the dark room.

Evelyn ushered herself further onto the bed, her breathing come out in silent, short pants. She was nervous, no doubt…for several reasons. First, it was doubtless that they were taking this relationship to a new level, which wasn't really the issue. Second, she was aware that Mitchell was a bit on edge and that as much as she did trust him with her life, there could be an accident. Yet, she was not backing off. And third, she was about to be naked. It was strange that she should feel self-conscious about this considering one more than one occasion has Mitchell already seen her full self already. She supposed the difference was that the other times were non-sexual, and she hadn't been conscious.

Mitchell ripped off his shirt, exposing a sculpted torso and more body hair than Evelyn remembered him having, not that she saw much in the past. It actually was more of a turn-on than she expected…she used to be strictly anti-body hair on men. The moonlight accentuated him. He began the unbutton his pants, but before going further he crawled back onto the bed. The entire time he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. Clearly, he was hungry, but she hoped it was only one form of hunger.

She allowed her hands to explore his upper body, tracing the light definition of muscles. The skin-to-skin contact somehow made her more comfortable and at ease. It was evident that he really was trying to contain himself. He wanted nothing more than to ravage her, his body aching to do so, but he was fighting an uphill battle. So far, he was winning.

He stopped and looked her straight in the eyes, his voice just above a whisper. "You have to promise me…_promise_ me…if things get out of control…or if at any point you want to stop. Promise me you'll tell me. And…" He was straddling her at this point, and he reached behind him and pulled out a wooden stake he kept in the drawer beside his bed. "If it goes beyond that…"

Evelyn froze, wanting to believe he didn't mean what he was saying, but his face read otherwise. "Mitchell…," she protested, although she already knew this wasn't an argument she would win. She'd never seen his face so hard as long as she'd known him. She closed her eyes for a moment. "If it starts to get…crazy…we'll just stop."

Mitchell placed the stake at a reachable spot, much to Evelyn's dismay, before pinning her arms above her head.

"You sure know how to ruin the mood," she muttered sarcastically, only to be shut up by his mouth. He freed one of his hands, which found its way to the bottom hem of her shirt. Her heart stuttered. She arched her back as he too-easily slipped it above her head, along with her bra.

Obviously, this was his area of expertise. She didn't even feel him unfasten her.

Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his gaze on her. She was grateful for the mostly-dark room, because she probably struck a fever by now. His skin was cold against hers, and hers like embers on his. Their heads were spinning in a jungle of feeling. Evelyn began tugging at the edge of his pants, and, feeling creative, she brought one of her feet up and slid them down to the floor along with his boxers. At this point, she probably didn't need the alcohol to make her feel the way she did.

Mitchell began unfastening her jeans, sliding everything off with one smooth motion. It was clear who was more experienced, but it made for a less awkward atmosphere. He shifted the both of them so they were length-wise with the bed rather than horizontal. There was another pause, in which the both of them soaked in each other's bodies.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, a hand caressing her thigh. She shivered.

"So are you," she whispered back, hardly audible. Mitchell parted her legs with his lower body, contorting himself into a sitting position as he gently positioned Evelyn into his lap. Her legs wrapped behind his waist. Her hands gently grasped the sides of his face, his at the bottom of her soft thighs. Their breath exchanged as they stared at each other.

"Do you trust me?" He asked quietly, his body almost in pain now with eagerness. His voice shook briefly. He felt confident in himself, even though he knew it could be lost at any moment. He made sure that Evelyn was within close proximity of the stake.

Evelyn smirked, then smiled softly. "With my life," she said, almost in jest, nodding her head in affirmation. Mitchell grinned, pressing her body against his and wanting nothing more than to meld with her. If he would die right now, he would die a happy man. He craned his neck up slightly and kissed her full on the mouth, began carefully lifting her with his strong arms…

And so the night was drowned in the moonlight.


End file.
